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• Artiste: Self
• Titre: The Pounding Truth
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I get up, Out of bed, Get some coffee, Go to work. I go from best to better to bad and then worst. I can't hang, I can't hang, I can't hang-- Out with you. Cuz in the middle of my head is the pounding truth. (In this life) we're livin'. We're just ridin' the curtails. (In this life) we're livin'. There's no wind under our sails. Ridin' the curtails. In the dirtiest of towns it's a raggedy scene; I go to buy my breakfast - got no money left to spend. I can't fly, I can't fly, I can't fly -- 'Round the room; Cuz in the middle of my head is the pounding truth. In this life we're livin'. We're just ridin' the curtails. (In this life) we're livin'. There's no wind under our sails. Ridin' the curtails (In this life) (In this life) we're livin'. We're just riding the curtails, ridin' the curtails. (In this life) hell yeah we're livin' There's no wind under our sails Just ridin' the curtails. (In this life.) We're just livin'.