Hawksley Workman
Hawksley Workman
Hawksley Workman
Hawksley Workman
Hawksley Workman
Hawksley Workman
Hawksley Workman
Hawksley Workman
Hawksley Workman
Hawksley Workman
Hawksley Workman
Hawksley Workman
Hawksley Workman
Pretty girls are walking around
They're walking on crutches barely making a sound
They're calling up their boyfriends to come fetch them after work
Cuz their legs are getting tired from the dancing they've been doing trying to make it in the city
And you wanna feel bad for 'em
Home cook a meal for 'em
Dial up the mothers who can hardly wait to see 'em
Going out the door back to college or
University
Supposedly
Can't see straight I've got spots on my lens
I can't look forward only speak in past tense
I got being for my purpose
But no purpose for being here
It's better just to look away when everything is falling down
It's falling down in the city
When the broken legs are looking pretty
The fact of the matter is
What's buried under here is
You gotta go to school if you want a career
You've got to summon up the forces that are there to tie you down
You've got to rest that broken leg and just be glad it's not a broken heart in the city
Cuz a broken heart is never pretty