May
Sunday 13 January 2008 photo 1/2
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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. I was a dumb punk kid with nothing to lose And too much weight for walking shoes. I could have died from being boring. And as for loneliness, She greets me every morning. 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. 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
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