have you seen the place they keep the dead
do you still have a heavy head?
you work your fingers to the bone
put on your wooden overcoat
does anybody know the best way to get home
it's getting late and i'm afraid of my own shadow
i should get singing before my songs been sung
youth is wasted on the young
don't threaten me with better times
you ask me what our future holds
i'll dig a hole and say let's go
your heart of gold turned into stone
don't ask what you don't want to know
does anybody know the best way to get home
it's getting late and i'm afraid of my own shadow
i should get singing before my songs been sung
youth is wasted on the young