Album: Young Chasers (2015)

100 Strangers

You've got to get out son
You got your back against the wall and the end has just begun
This place, there's a hundred strangers and I hardly know one face
And I sold my soul to the night
And I waste the time but yet I've got to try

We're all worrying about the same things
The end cannot begin at the start
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
And 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
We're all worrying about the same things
The end cannot begin at the start