| Well I’ve been up and down these same damn roads | 
| And nothing ever seems to change | 
| (And uh…) You grow a little older, then one day, your strange becomes mundane | 
| Don’t know how folks can do it day after day | 
| What does it feel like to be here and not feel right? | 
| Does it feel like fighting? | 
| Does it serve to a nightmare? | 
| I don’t know all of the details of the day | 
| But I felt that it wouldn’t be wrong to bow my head and pray | 
| Cause' there’s nothing our here but busted trucks, a few beers and rusted nails | 
| There’s some broken bottles and boarded up houses | 
| And these worn out old man tales | 
| And I’m not sure that I can go on with my day | 
| Can’t get lost in the soft skin | 
| Would you please meet me half way? | 
| I could drown in this old playground, where the streets don’t have no name | 
| All my friends skipped town or went to jail, just to hide their shame | 
| I’m running out of patience | 
| This soul’s to break | 
| The days got rain to make me go crazy | 
| Get out of this rut (can't get out of this rut) | 
| Got to pick myself up (I got to pick myself up) | 
| I could leave, it wouldn’t matter | 
| Cause nobody notices the weekend after that | 
| Because inside they’re sad and lonely | 
| And I’ll be hoping this day… | 
| But it’s not looking that way… | 
| But what can I say? | 
| I’ve got music to make | 
| God, hoping that these trenches, they ain’t just standing to break | 
| But I could take 5, then we’re ready to play | 
| Do you people feel what we see? | 
| We’re gonna give it to ya | 
| The weatherman said «mostly rain again», damn | 
| Take that winter and stick it where the sun don’t shine | 
| Trying to find the benefits | 
| In the gray state of mind | 
| It’s isolated in my melancholy confine | 
| And I’m turning to a migraine, an aging think tank | 
| Today faded on tomorrow’s daybreak | 
| To chase if I stay awake | 
| Naps to conversate | 
| Bastards play keep away with contracts | 
| I’m gonna have to have it with death | 
| Forget about that | 
| On the fast track to disaster, past my salary cap | 
| Tapped out and cash strapped | 
| No way — I’ll keep looking | 
| No change between cushions | 
| Won’t play the game crooked | 
| The Queen killed my rook | 
| I don’t want to stay so **** it | 
| I’ll sacrifice my peace | 
| The heart on my sleeves, tuck it | 
| Muzzle those words | 
| Uttered bombs, so puzzled and tongue twisted | 
| I’m done with it… and it’s just begun | 
| I’m running out of patience | 
| This soul’s to break | 
| The days got rain to make me go crazy | 
| Get out of this rut (can't get out of this rut) | 
| Got to pick myself up (I got to pick myself up) | 
| I could leave, it wouldn’t matter | 
| Cause nobody notices the weekend after that | 
| Because inside they’re sad and lonely | 
| And I’ll be hoping this day… | 
| But it’s not looking that way… | 
| But what can I say? | 
| I’ve got music to make | 
| God, hoping that these trenches, they ain’t just standing to break | 
| But I could take 5, then we’re ready to play | 
| Do you people feel what we see? | 
| No change between cushions | 
| Won’t play the game crooked | 
| The Queen killed my rook | 
| I don’t want to stay so **** it | 
| I’ll sacrifice my peace | 
| The heart on my sleeves, tuck it | 
| Muzzle those words | 
| Uttered bombs, so puzzled and tongue twisted | 
| I’m done with it… and it’s just begun | 
| I’m running out of patience | 
| This soul’s to break | 
| The days got rain to make me go crazy | 
| Get out of this rut (can't get out of this rut) | 
| Got to pick myself up (I got to pick myself up) | 
| I could leave, it wouldn’t matter | 
| Cause nobody notices the weekend after that | 
| Because inside they’re sad and lonely | 
| And I’ll be hoping this day… | 
| But it’s not looking that way… | 
| But what can I say? | 
| I’ve got music to make | 
| God, hoping that these trenches, they ain’t just standing to break | 
| But I could take 5, then we’re ready to play | 
| Do you people feel what we see? | 
| We’re gonna give it to ya |