one way

there's only one way of life, and that's your own, my father when i was younger, took me up on to the hill, that looked down on the city smog, above the factory spill, he said this is where i come, when i want to be free, well he never was in his lifetime, but these words stuck with me, i ran from all of this, and i climbed that highest hill, and looked down on my life, beneath the factory spill, i looked down onto my life, as the family disgrace, then to all my friends on the starting line, their wages off to chase, and all my friends and all their jobs, and all the bloody waste, i grew up, learned to love and laugh, circled a's on the underpass, but the noise we thought would never stop, died a death as the punks grew up, and we choked on our dreams, we wrestled with our fears, running through the heartless streets, chasing our ideas, and the problems of the world, won't be solved by this guitar, and they won't stop coming either, by the life i've had so far, and the bright lights of my home town, won't be getting any dimmer, though their calling has receded now, like some old distant singer, and they don't seem so appealing, to the eyes of this poor sinner