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Little tramp comin' up the strip with a hundred dollar smile |
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Sparks flyin' off her fingertips, drive the young cop wild |
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Some nights are wound so tight like a storm about to break |
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Better stand in your doorway when everything starts to shake |
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You get restless like a cat waking up at midnight, |
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Hungry, never quite satisfied |
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Chorus: |
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This is our world and these are our times |
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This is our world and these are our times |
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Little brother like a street god with a drop dead attitude |
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Say he's looking like a shadow now, runnin' low on green and food |
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Some lives are wound up tight like a wave about to crash |
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Hard times seem to multiply while the joy runs out so fast |
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You get restless like a kid crawling out of a bad dream |
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Hungry, never quite satisfied |
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chorus repeats 2x |
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(Solo) |
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Make way for the son of a rebel wired to a bottle of flame |
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He's got two black eyes and a purple heart and a bone hangin' on a chain |
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These times are like dynamite, a head-on with history |
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Some fool's bound to burn it all down, don't care about you and me |
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He'll get desperate like a child in the eye of a nightmare |
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Hungry, never quite satisfied |
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chorus repeats 2x... |
