Down at the end of dead end street,
Cold, down and feeling beat,
Trying to make sense of it all,
Sun rises burning red,
Visions spinning in my head,
Now every dead end street leads to me.
Blowing around in stormy weather,
Like a bunch of dead leaves,
I'd be a boarded up home,
I'd be a rusty old car sitting up on blocks,
And...
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