Guns Made Of SticksnnDo younRemember the time we threwnMud at the neighbours placenAnd we lit that tree on firenAnd you punched me in the facennAnd wenMade that treehouse down the backnLined the trench with bricksnOh, we killed so many bad guysnWith our guns made of sticksnnAll I want from this lifenAre memories like thesenCause when I fall into darknessnWhat more can I hope to take with mennAnd the firstnTime we tried to smokenIn the backyard of your parents housenWe told such dirty jokesnnDo younRemember the first time you kissed hernThree months til you’d see her againnAnd Tom threw up on the back fencenAnd wanted to leave at tennnAll I want from this lifenAre memories like thesenCause when I fall into darknessnWhat more can I hope to take with mennDo younRemember when we skipped schoolnTo go and see that bandnFive dollars each for petrolnIt got us home againnnDo younRemember when we laynWrapped in the sheets, our eyes closednI breathed outnAnd you breathed innnAll I want from this lifenAre memories like thesenCause when I fall into darknessnWhat more can I hope to take with men