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 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 around in his head
You’re better off living
Don’t act like you’re dead
No, don’t be such a Lonely Jones