IRC-Galleria

Here I am, where IÂ’ve been
IÂ’ve walked a hundred miles in tobacco skin,
And my clothes are worn & gritty.
And I know ugliness,
Now show me something pretty.
I was a dumb punk kid with nothing to lose
And too much weight for walking shoes.
I could have died from being boring.
As for loneliness,
She greets me every morning.

At the most IÂ’m a glare,
IÂ’m the hopeless son whoÂ’s hardly there.
IÂ’m the open sign thatÂ’s always busted.
IÂ’m the friend you need, but canÂ’t be trusted.

At the most IÂ’m a glare,
IÂ’m the hopeless son whoÂ’s hardly there.
IÂ’m the open sign thatÂ’s always busted.
IÂ’m the friend you need, but canÂ’t be trusted.

Here I am, where IÂ’ve been
IÂ’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 IÂ’m a glare,
IÂ’m the hopeless son whoÂ’s hardly there.
IÂ’m the open sign thatÂ’s always busted.
IÂ’m the friend you need, but canÂ’t be trusted.

At the most IÂ’m a glare,
IÂ’m the hopeless son whoÂ’s hardly there.
IÂ’m the open sign thatÂ’s always busted.
IÂ’m the friend you need, but canÂ’t be trusted.