I was spending my days with my demons, yeah
They had taken up inside of my heart
They were trying to keep me entertained

They were tearing me apart

Well my memory, she was packing, yeah

And I knew that she would never come back
She handed me a letter and
Then she vanished in the black

And the letter said:

Things are what you make of them

Things are what you make of them, baby
And you know what I mean
Yeah, you know what I mean


Well I met up with my common sense
And I knew her by the rose in her hair

She said: Son, if you don't make a noise
God will never know you're there


So I purchased me a ticket, yeah
For a meeting with Jesus Christ
He shook my hand and offered me

Just this thimble of advice
He was telling me:


Things are what you make of them...