STYLE (IS A LOSING GAME)

real cool child
I’m tryn’a make it to New Orleans
You know that I been out here runnin' wild
My daddy said I was a charmer
All I got is what is with me
Blood on my shirt and little box around my neck
And it’s a long way out the city
A crooked smile in spite of welts across my back
City limit is a panic
They only ever called me by my childhood name
It ain’t a life I’d call romantic
I guess I learned my lesson all the same:
Style is a losing game
I got no reason to go out tonight
I’ll probably find a darkened corner
Pretend it from on the ground
You’ll probably say, «I could’a warned ya»
All I got is what is with me
Blood on my shirt and little box around my neck
And it’s a long way out the city
A crooked smile in spite of welts across my back
City limit is a panic
They wouldn’t even call me by my childhood name
It ain’t a life I’d call romantic
I finally I learned my lesson all the same:
Style is a losing game
crawling on the station floor
Your mamma’s sufferin' a rebound
There’s screamin' demons in the luggage line
When they see me they put their heads down
All I got is what is with me
Blood on my shirt and little box around my neck
And it’s a long way out the city
A crooked smile in spite of welts across my back
City limit is a panic
They only ever called me by my childhood name
It ain’t a life I’d call romantic
I guess I learned my lesson all the same:
Style is a losing game
Style is a losing game
Style is a losing game
Style is a losing game