I've seen your imagination
High above the halfway station
Always working, always making
Something for the pile
Then you set it all on fire
You can learn to make something real
That comes from the heel of your life
I'm still trying
You don't have to break
Your mama's heart
To change the world
Mama's boy's daddy
Is in the crack house again
Watching car crash shows
With the pipe in
A pack of dull monkeys
Could write circles around
That fourth grade, mumbly slang
Stream of consciousness
Jive that you call a song
Is that going to be your story?
Child, you don't have to break
Your mama's heart
To change the world
You're never gonna change your mind
Don't just rearrange the lies
Into a straighter line
Not too many years ago
There was hippies killing people
A mile away from the Marlboro Man
Now there's sandpaper pants
On the gutter punks
And low riders with their heads
In the trunks
Or walking in fours
And kicking in doors
Cutting it up
And filling their cup
You don't have to break
Your mama's heart
To change the world
Said you don't have to break
Your mama's heart
To change the world
Change the world
Poor, poor la
Poor, poor la
Poor, poor la
