|
Here I am, where I've been |
|
I've walked a hundred miles in tobacco skin, |
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And my clothes are worn & gritty. |
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And I know ugliness, |
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Now show me something pretty. |
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I was a dumb punk kid with nothing to lose |
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And too much weight for walking shoes. |
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I could have died from being boring. |
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As for loneliness, |
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She greets me every morning. |
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At the most I'm a glare, |
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I'm the hopeless son who's hardly there. |
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I'm the open sign that's always busted. |
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I'm the friend you need, but can't be trusted. |
|
At the most I'm a glare, |
|
I'm the hopeless son who's hardly there. |
|
I'm the open sign that's always busted. |
|
I'm the friend you need, but can't be trusted. |
|
Here I am, where I've been |
|
I've walked a hundred miles in tobacco skin, |
|
And my clothes are worn & gritty. |
|
And I know ugliness, |
|
Now show me something pretty. |
|
At the most I'm a glare, |
|
I'm the hopeless son who's hardly there. |
|
I'm the open sign that's always busted. |
|
I'm the friend you need, but can't be trusted. |
|
At the most I'm a glare, |
|
I'm the hopeless son who's hardly there. |
|
I'm the open sign that's always busted. |
|
I'm the friend you need, but can't be trusted |
