100 Strangers

You've got to get out, son
 You got your back against the wall, and the end has just begun
 And this place, there's a hundred strangers and I hardly know one face
 And I sold my soul to the night
 And a waste of time, but yet I've got to try
 We're all worrying about the same things
 The end cannot begin at the start
 Yeah, we're all worrying about the same things
 The end cannot begin at the start
 Spit your words out, son
 They cling to your lips like they're trying to hold on
 And I like to tread the boards of avenues with open eyes
 But I'm fine, my head isn't there
 I'm losing out, but I'm trying not to care
 We're all worrying about the same things
 The end cannot begin at the start
 Yeah, we're all worrying, about the same things
 The end cannot begin at the start