A half-darkened room
a wilted bouquet
tattered lace curtains
the head gone grey
and an old phonograph
no records to play
but get on your feet and come along
come along
we're leaving this place in the morning
come along
come along
pa** the led, and we're gone
we'll the beds not made
and a pack of kents
and i cant find the ashtray
and i can't pay the rent
and i can't find the letter that i been meaning to send
but get on your feet and come along
come along
we're leaving this place in the morning
come along come along
pa** the lead, i'll be gone
got a crumpled suit and battered shoes
narrow hands veins all blue
when nothing really matters
there's nothing to lose
but get on your feet and come along, come along
we're leaving this place in the morning
come along come along
pa** the lead, i'll be gone
i hate my life and i love my life
im tired of not sleeping
steeple and church
rained like hell
and who gets it worst
get on your feet and come along
we're leaving this place in the morning
past the meadow, come along
come along, we're leaving this place in the morning
come along, come along
past the meadow, we're gone