For years, I sang the wrong lyrics to R.E.M.’s Driver 8. I had two verses completely wrong. It’s:
Way to shield the hated heat.
Way to put myself to sleep.
Way to shield the hated heat.
Way to put myself, my children to sleep.He piloted this song in a plane like that one.
She is selling faith on the go tell crusade.
Locomotive 8, southern crescent, hear the bells ring again.
Field of wheat is looking thin
not:
A way to rejuvenate me.
A way to put myself to sleep.
A way to rejuvenate me.
A way to put myself, not you, to sleep.He piloted in to the sun in a plane like that one.
Parasail on faith on the [unintelligable]
Locomotive babes show their breasts and the hear the bells ring again.
He turns to wave and look at them.
Now in my defense, it’s not like Michael Stipe is most elocutionary singer out there, nor is he known for his predictable lyrics.