Failure Sounds So Fun

I ran into an old friend down on Central Avenue
He asked me how I'm doing, I said I didn't have a clue
"The days are going slower, but the years are going quick
But anyway, I'm okay. How are you? How ya been?"

He said, "I haven't had a cigarette since the first
But the smell of it's still clinging to my shirt
For all the things in life that I've cut out
The smoke has long since vanished, but the odor sticks around"

"And I know it can be done
But failure sounds so fun"

I stand in Arizona, but there's sand still in my shoes
From the shores of California, whose offer I refused
I guess that our past follows us no matter where we go
It's a relic, it's a souvenir, it's an antique, it's a ghost

Like the stars that fade and die
Whose light still fills our sky

The stone in that cathedral was laid by someone's hand
About a thousand years ago, in the quiet streets of France
Everything we know of him is lost to history
Like a message written in the sand, that's washed out by the sea

But that stone is still sitting straight and tall
And it's holding up those old historic walls
Like a shout in that cathedral, and its reverberated sound
The noise has long since vanished, but the echo sticks around

So in that short and nameless life
He managed to stay alive