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Sitting by a broken window, up in a back room, swallowing wine |
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Gazing down a backstreet garden with my bed, chair, table and wine |
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Looks like I'm going nowhere, but nowhere's where I am |
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Guess I'll always be a backstreet, broken man |
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Oh, broken man, oh, yeah, broken man |
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Calling out my name and number as I was walking out of my cell |
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Louie gave me back my wallet, he nearly dropped my picture of Nell |
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Drinking gets you nowhere, but nowhere's where I am |
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Guess I'll always be a backstreet, broken man, oh, yeah |
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Oh, broken man, oh, yeah, backstreet, broken man |
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Early on a Sunday morning, as I was walking on down the lane |
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Someone said, I beg your pardon and I was sure I knew her name |
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She was going somewhere, but nowhere's where I ran |
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Guess I'll always be a backstreet, broken man, oh, that's where I am |
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Guess I'm gonna stay a backstreet, broken man |
