1989 - Portugal. The Man

I was born in nineteen eighty-nine

All we could do No shakes or coughs or burst relief

Or lists of all our things

Just minutes making minds

I was born in nineteen eighty-nine

All we could do But the making never made

The comers never came

But I still felt the awful news

It was patience that we had

And the miles we had left

That held us there

Until we could let go I was born in nineteen eighty-nine

And it’ll be over soon

No moon children or peoples sun

Or ringing in my ears

When I felt that awful news

But we found that we were always lost… in space

And we will never find our way

We felt that we would always find our way

If our minds ever come around

I was born in nineteen eighty-nine

All we could do Not in birth or body

But only in our minds

I was shaking to through my eyes

And living through each breath

I still felt that awful news