| I walk right past his window when the light is growing dim
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| He looks away from me and as I glance in at him
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| He owns one bed, one bookcase and the television
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| He sits and watches and I’m glad I’m not there with him
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| There was a time when he was young
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| There was a time when he had no time to regret what he’d done
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| There are six men on the ground floor
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| Three stories up and there are sixteen more
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| And the stories they tell you think you’ve heard before
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| But listen closely, to be sure
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| There was a time when they were young
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| There was a time when they had no time to regret what they’d done
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| I see him on the street in the cold
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| He nods as if to greet me, I feel too young, and he too old
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| He is a nameless face to me
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| This is his hiding place I see
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| He talks to himself, I can see his breath
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| Sixteen rooms, sixteen men off the meth
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| There was a time when they were young
|
| There was a time when they had no time to regret what they’d done |