| Lyric | Song | Album and Year |
|---|
| Now don't be a cry baby when there's wood in the shed. There's a bird in the chimney and a stone in my bed. | |
| Without her love, without your kiss. Hell can't burn me more than this. | |
| Got no time for the corner boys, down in the street makin' all that noise. | |
| I put food on the table, and a roof overhead; but I'd trade it all tomorrow, for the highway instead. | |
| I've seen it all boys. I've been all over; been everywhere in the whole wide world. | |
| The trees are bending over and the cows are lying down. The Autumn's taking over, you can hear the buckshot hounds. | |
| Let marrow bone and cleaver choose, while making feet for children shoes. Through the alley, back from hell, when you hear that steeple bell, you must say goodbye to me. | |
| Well the music plays and you display your heart for me to see. I had a beer and now I hear you calling out for me. | |
| They're alive, they're awake, while the rest of the world is asleep. Below the mine shaft roads, it will all unfold. | |
| I'm an innocent victim of a blinded alley, and I'm tired of all these soldiers here. No one speaks English and everything's broken. | |
| | Lyric | Song | Album and Year |
|---|
| So thousands dead and wounded on both sides; most of them middle eastern civilians. They fill the children full of hate to fight an old man's war. | |
| When you walk through the garden, you gotta watch your back. Well I beg your pardon, walk the straight and narrow track. | |
| You can hang me in a bottle like a cat. Let the crows pick me clean but for my hat. Where the wailing of a baby meets the footsteps of the dead. | |
| I'd sell your heart to the junkman baby, for a buck, for a buck. If you're looking for someone to pull you out of that ditch you're out of luck, you're out of luck. | |
| I said John, John, he's long gone; gone to Indiana, ain't never coming home. | |
| The sun is up the world is flat, damn good address for a rat. The smell of blood, the drone of flies. You know what to do if the baby cries. | |
| The dice is laughin at the man that he throwed | |
| What does it matter, a dream of love or a dream of lies; we're all gonna be in the same place when we die. Your spirit don't leave knowing your face or your name. | |
| You can't deny, the other side don't want to die anymore than we do. What I'm trying to say is don't they pray, to the same God that we do? | |
| The barn leaned over, the vultures dried their wings, the moon climbed up an empty sky. | |
|
'The' Bands
VH1's 100 Songs ('90s)
Finish the Lyric
