Lyrics

In the suburbs of suburbs in a wet basement bedroom
I spent the summer of the year of the tattoo
That you got on your forearm the one you’re famous for
Learning how to roll a cigarette in the cafe kitchen door

Lost your religion and you lost a job or two
Laundry listing what real anarchists should do
But you were not afraid you had the songs to play
And your first real friends and a mini van to drive your doubts away

So roll up that drum and take me to the commune
Reading manifestos out to San Francisco
Dreaming that we’re dharma bums

Driving suburbs to suburbs through cities farms and fields
Learning together just how small the world can feel
When every night’s a stage when all you earn is change
With a future bright as a blinker light pulling into the passing lane

So roll up that drum and take me to the commune
Reading manifestos out to San Francisco
Dreaming that we’re dharma bums

No more filter I have smoked it down to the fingers
The first puff of freedom burns
Now I feel the past can be a predictor
Of where to go when nothing else works

So roll up that drum and take me to the commune
Reading manifestos out to San Francisco
Dreaming that we’re dharma bums
Yeah roll up that drum and take me to the commune
Reading manifestos out to San Francisco
Dreaming that we’re dharma bums