""Still these young hammers beat from beneath our ribs The rhythms of the kids we thought we'd ceased to be yet never did. I've all the empty books a man could need To fill with the borrowed words of a grieving teen... 'But think a little louder cos I can't hear what your mind wants to say' Hands long since parted here offered up in haste For sorrows fashioned from old mistakes old mistakes. But think a little louder cos I can't hear what your mind wants to say And give me all your heartache cos it's me who should be hurting anyway (We will hammer from beneath our ribs we will hammer the rhythm of the kids.)""