Lonely Jones

Lonely Jones
He never leaves his home
Because the moment he opens the door he loses the breath that he had right
before
That’s why he’s a Lonely Jones
Motorbike
It don’t take him where he’d like
Because the moment that he turns the key he gets afraid of the sights he might
see
Too bad for that motorbike
Walks past the mailbox to the end of the street
Maybe this isn’t so bad
Makes his way up to the girl of his dreams
Wakes up feeling so sad
Too bad
But his goulashes look worse in the light
But he moves on instead in the dark of the night
And in spite of the words spinning round in his head
You’re better off living
Don’t act like you’re dead
No, don’t be such a Lonely Jones