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They tell me i've paid back the debt i owed |
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Forty-four months since the slammer door closed |
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They give me a suit and put me back on the road |
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And my thoughts are racing |
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Where do i go? what am i supposed to live on? |
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What happens when the twenty-five dollars is gone? |
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That leaves me lots of time to wonder why i was born |
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But the countdown is on |
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Everybody's dancing |
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The music sounds entrancing |
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But you can't find the beat |
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It's the ticking of a thousand human time bombs |
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Who are back on the street |
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Oh the names have been changed |
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But the story's the same |
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History will repeat |
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Add it all up and then divide it by zero |
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'cause you're back on the street |
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I can't stand the strain of this job no more |
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I must have forgot what i took it on for |
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I make lots of money, yet still i want more |
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And my head is blazing |
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I think that i'll check out the shops downtown |
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Sometimes it helps to buy things when i feel brought down |
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At this hour i might dodge those hippie low-life's around |
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But the countdown is on |
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Once you had to stand out |
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Looking for a handout |
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Free love and body heat |
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And that money's just a crumpled green ball in your pocket |
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When you're back on the street |
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Back on the street again |
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Said you're back on the street again |
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The countdown is on |
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And nobody knows when |
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Spreading like a cancer |
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Looking for the answer |
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In everyone you meet |
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And each in his way has a hustle to play |
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When he's back on the street |
