Marty was a punk rocker

he went to all the shows

patches on Swiss Army pants

and two rings in his nose

he had an old Nash Rambler

no insurance, not much gas

and a dancing hula girl that bobbled on the dash

feeling kind of stupid

one day he broke down

he drove his ugly car to the edge of town

he sunk it in the quarry

just because he could

and 'cause the rear defroster never worked too good

Marty where you going

whatcha going to?

what's the point in not conforming 

if it changes you?

when this world runs out of answers

would you even know?

does the truth have any bearing on which way you go?

he took the bus to Santa Cruz

he hitchhiked to L.A.

a preacherman had picked him up

and drove him half the way

he said "there's two kinds of people that i've met

those who ask the questions

and those who don't ask questions yet"

then he turned, asking Marty

which one that he thought he was

Marty shrgged and shook his head

forgetting what the question was

you'd do almost anything someone told you not to do

just because someone else told you it was cool

remember long ago, someone said to get a life?

did you ever think they might be right?

Marty was a rebel, he never had a cause

it may be stupid and cliche

but that's because he was

he spent his whole life straying from the norm

he was neither hot or cold

just boring and lukewarm

it didn't seem to bother him

he didn't seem to mind

his cathartic life

just buried somewhere in the timeline