John, the distance of time is stucknAnd when the sharp fucks playnI could be with you todaynSo John, I hung all the songsnBut I'm miles from the smilesnAnd I've nowhere to sleepnnIf I don't grow old nI can't become an antiquenSo i just stay a freaknFor someone to keepnnThese are the days I forgot to write downnThese are the thorns they wear in their crownnThese are the days I forgot to write downnThese are the words buried deep in the groundnAnd they're not to be foundnAnd they don't make a soundnnThey sing: ooh, ooh, oohnnBill, I used to write words to younBut the you in the songs are the ones who have gonenSo Bill, try recalling the best of timesnAnd the ghost on the bus is the sadness of dustnAnd the kids at the club are all sitting in pubsnStill looking for lovenAs if that was enoughnnAnd these are the days I forgot to write downnThese are the thorns I wear in my crownnThese are the days I forgot to write downnThese are the words buried deep in the groundnNot to be foundnThey don't make a soundnnThey sing: ooh, ooh, oohnnI, I'm sad from this fog of friendsnWe fell down in the nightnRecord shop by daynAnd Brent, he don't surf anymorenBut you drown so slow with nowhere to gonIf you're fucked, it's all rightnIt's Saturday night and you are alivenAnd you are all right!nnThese are the days I forgot to write downnThese are the thorns I wear in my crownnThese are the days I forgot to write downnThese are the things buried deep in the groundnThese are the days I forgot to write downnThese are the words buried deep in the groundnThese are the days I forgot to write downnThese are the words buried deep in the groundnnThey don't make a soundnThey don't bring you down