"Noone knows what it's like.
To be the bad man.
To be the sad man.
Behind blue eyes.
Noone knows what it's like.
To be hated.
To be faded.
To telling only lies.
But my dreams.
They aren't as empty
as my conscience seems to be.
I have hours,
Only lonely.
My love is vengeance
That's never free.
Noone knows what its like.
To feel these feelings .
Like I do.
And I blame you.
Noone bites back as hard.
On their anger.
None of my pain will,
Can show through.
But my dreams.
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be.
I have hours.
Only lonely.
My love is vengeance
That's never free.
Noone knows how to say
That they're sorry.
But no worry.
I'm not telling lies.
But my dreams.
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be.
I have hours.
Only lonely.
My love is vengeance
That's never free.
Noone knows what its like.
To be the bad man.
To be the sad man.
Behind blue eyes."
I had finally got that damned radio back up and running, although I don't think a fist through the glass was the right way to do it before. I was amazed to find some half decent music on the radio at four in the morning. The song reminded me of....well, ME.
After tuning the new radio out in the middle of Kissel county, I hopped out of the car, boots slapping the ground. Pulled a dingy and faded rag out of my pocket. Spit on it. And began to wipe the bird crap off the front window and roof of the truck.
It's great to have friends, especially in high places, but not when they shit on your only car.