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I'll show you them now, those boys without cares |
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Who'd swapped dirty pictures and talked during prayers |
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They grew up with wisdom they'd stored from ' |
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Those days' |
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Nobody told them to get in, they must change |
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I'll show you something, come with me now |
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Stop at this place, stop at this place |
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The teachers laughed with them class idiot style |
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After all they weren't their kids so why should they mind |
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Boyish good looks held the wrath back a while |
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And they were thumped in and drummed in and soon left behind |
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Alcoholics, child molesters, nervous wrecks and prima donnas |
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Jilted lovers, office clerks, petty thieves, hard drug pursuers |
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Lonely tramps and awkward misfits, anyone of these |
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Alcoholics, child molesters, nervous wrecks and prima donnas |
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Jilted lovers, office clerks, petty thieves, hard drug pursuers |
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Lonely tramps and awkward misfits, anyone of these |
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Mortgaged up families looked at first too mundane |
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But it's funny how with help all the lucky ones changed |
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But some of them couldn't, there had to be more |
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Music, I dunno, films, something special perhaps |
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I'll show you something, come with me now |
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Stop at this place, stop at this place, stop at this place |
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It's so hard to picture dirty tramps as young boys |
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But if you see a man crying, hold his hand, he's my friend |
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If these words sound corny, switch it off, |
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I don't care |
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Nearby he's still crying, |
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I won't smile while he's there |
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I'll show you something, |
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I'll show you something |
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Stop at this place, stop at this place |
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Nearby he's still crying, |
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I won't smile while he's there |
