Nada Surf

I am made of Sopwith Camel
Sherman PT-17, sixty and cloudy, I go slow
Compared to modernity I am a humming bee
Sweater-weather and
Hugs and drugs and movies
But baby ice
Is growing on the wing
Baby ice is growing on the wing
You rolled the dice but
You didn’t know anything
Underneath the oxide
Underneath the oxide
It’s all the same song
I am made of no newspapers
When the V-1 buzzing stopped
Only prayers
I am made of young curiosity, deluded piety
Double-whiskey for the men
Don’t talk to thy neighbour
If they don’t take your same lord as saviour
In a songless meeting house
Proud to be the only ones
Who get saved in the end