100 Strangers

You've got to get out, son You got your back against the wall, and the end has just begun And this place, there's a hundred strangers and I hardly know one face And I sold my soul to the night And a waste of time, but yet I've got to try We're all worrying about the same things The end cannot begin at the start Yeah, 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 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 Yeah, we're all worrying, about the same things The end cannot begin at the start