When this war is over It will be a better day But it won't bring back Those poor boys in their graves Ain't no sense in no action Killin' people all the time When it happens on the street We call that a crime Man, he can get along

I'm just going over home I'm just going over Jordan I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger Traveling through this world below There is no sickness, no toil, nor danger In that bright land to which I go I'm going there to see my Father And all my loved ones

This is a blackout Don't let it go to waste I want to detonate My head and your heart Sometimes I feel I'm getting stuck Between the handshake and the fuck Real life is so hard We hide in the stars That's where our heads are

Poor me this, poor me that Why do I keep looking back? It's not white, it’s not black Grey's the color that I see To love her Still can't believe he'd leave me Pour me another Found it in his closet

She's a poor girl This is a story 'bout a poor girl, a story that you ought to know She lived all alone in a one room flat on a street where the lights are low Every night about the same time she'd go and put her glad rags on Go to the place where