The Bulletboys
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For The Damned

The Bulletboys


I don't care about the future now
'Cuz it don't care about me
Paparazzi, glitter, gossips
Lord they always crucify me

Street urchin baby
It's someone's old lady on the lam
He's the man of the hour
And anyone who's seen the face of the damned
Whoa

Lift your glasses for a final toast
L'haim, ching-ching cheers
Degredated, desecrated
Been playin' Russian roulette for all my years

She's a street urchin baby
It's someone's old lady on the lam
He's the man of the hour
And anyone who's seen the face of the damned
Whoa
The face of the damned
Oooh

There's a message here you probably won't get
Just what I'm thinking about
That the bad die young
And the good will never carry the clout, ooh

She's a street urchin baby
It's someone's old lady on the lam
He's the man of the hour
And anyone who's seen the face of the damned

It's a chip on a shoulder
As a woman grows older without grace
A priest with a problem
With anyone who wears the face of the damned
Whoa!
The face of the damned
Sings about me, oh

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