|
Little tramp comin' up the strip with a hundred dollar smile |
|
Sparks flyin' off her fingertips, drive the young cop wild |
|
Some nights are wound so tight like a storm about to break |
|
Better stand in your doorway when everything starts to shake |
|
You get restless like a cat waking up at midnight, |
|
Hungry, never quite satisfied |
|
Chorus: |
|
This is our world and these are our times |
|
This is our world and these are our times |
|
Little brother like a street god with a drop dead attitude |
|
Say he's looking like a shadow now, runnin' low on green and food |
|
Some lives are wound up tight like a wave about to crash |
|
Hard times seem to multiply while the joy runs out so fast |
|
You get restless like a kid crawling out of a bad dream |
|
Hungry, never quite satisfied |
|
chorus repeats 2x |
|
(Solo) |
|
Make way for the son of a rebel wired to a bottle of flame |
|
He's got two black eyes and a purple heart and a bone hangin' on a chain |
|
These times are like dynamite, a head-on with history |
|
Some fool's bound to burn it all down, don't care about you and me |
|
He'll get desperate like a child in the eye of a nightmare |
|
Hungry, never quite satisfied |
|
chorus repeats 2x... |