Text: Red Dons. Death To Idealism. This City.

There is nothing for me
In this City
What a waste of time
Nothing works out at all

Well the road it greets me
Oh so warmly
Though I?m here now
You know I can?t stay long
I?m just a wanderers child
Searching for my home

And, there is nothing for me
In this City
What a waste of time
Nothing works out at all
Nothing works out at all

Well just this morning
The sun was shining
On a place where I?ve never been
So I packed my bags and hit the road again
You know it?s not that close
But it?s not too far
For a wanderers child
For a vagabond

There is nothing for me
In this City
What a waste of time
Nothing works out at all