| «there's no place for me.»
|
| A man of nowhere,
|
| A man of black heart
|
| From the dead end streets.
|
| «regret runs through me.
|
| I am no one, I am nothing,
|
| I am a man of defeat. |
| what’s left for me?
|
| Whats left for me?»
|
| He thought of those open roads,
|
| His mother praying alone,
|
| That vagrant anthem and the field sung hymns,
|
| The cowardice forever following him.
|
| «what's left, what’s left for me?
|
| The world has turned it’s back on me.
|
| There’s no place for me.»
|
| A sullen walk to the chapel stairs.
|
| «regret runs through me.»
|
| A hard pull on that white oak door
|
| To face up those fears.
|
| There’s no place for me
|
| «what brings you here my son?»
|
| «I've been a horrible man.
|
| I killed my father, I killed my brother,
|
| I left my mother in your god’s hands.
|
| «clasp your hands and count your sins.
|
| Kneel at the pew till the sermon begins.
|
| «no judgment cast down this day, will set you free.
|
| You are forgiven my son,
|
| You are blessed and redeemed.
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| You’ve found absolution here son, but only from me.»
|
| «what's left, what’s left for me?»
|
| A sullen walk to the steeple top
|
| To look over the city.
|
| He carves his name in that old brass bell,
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| So when it rings he can hear it in hell.
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| One last look to that western sky,
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| One last wish he could have changed his life.
|
| «I ain’t, ain’t no wicked man.»
|
| He let his fleet slip from under him.
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| Unwanted. |