MP3 
You've got to get out, son
You got your back against the wall, and the end has just begun
And this place, there's a hundred strangers and I hardly know one face
And I sold my soul to the night
And a waste of time, but yet I've got to try
We're all worrying about the same things
The end cannot begin at the start
Yeah, we're all worrying about the same things
The end cannot begin at the start
Spit your words out, son
They cling to your lips like they're trying to hold on
And I like to tread the boards of avenues with open eyes
But I'm fine, my head isn't there
I'm losing out, but I'm trying not to care
We're all worrying about the same things
The end cannot begin at the start
Yeah, we're all worrying, about the same things
The end cannot begin at the start
