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One man sits with his head hung low |
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Nowhere to run, got no place to go |
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There was a time when his town held homes |
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Now it's trash and broken homes |
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Every day, haulin' off the dead |
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So many scenes flashin' through his head |
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A little kid had to ask me "why" |
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Should I laugh? Maybe I'll just cry |
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So many folks tune in the living hell |
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They wanna know where the bombs just fell |
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Your TV screens show them crashing down |
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Can you see the lights? Can you hear the sound? |
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Guess the times have got the best of me |
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What the hell is this supposed to prove |
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They don't want to feel this misery |
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Hear 'em screaming and they dare not move |
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Guess the times have got the best of me |
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Has there got to be a single bullet |
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Put it right up to my head |
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Half a chance you know that I would use it |
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Guess the times have got the best of me |
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What the hell is this supposed to prove |
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They don't want to feel this misery |
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Hear 'em screaming and they dare not move |
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Guess the times have got the best of me |
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Has there got to be a single bullet |
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They don't want to fell this misery |
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Remember yesterday, oh yesterday |
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One man sits with his cigarettes |
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Drinks his gin like his own regrets |
