1965 was the finest year in the history of the world, and civilization has produced comparative worthlessness ever since.
Well, I try my best
To be just like I am,
But everybody wants you
To be just like them.
They sing while you slave and I just get bored.
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear, when from out of the past come the thundering hoofbeats of the great 1965 Mustang! The Lone Stranger rides again!
Or something like that.