First In Line

Look me up with my head in my pocket
Look me up with my head in my pocket
To see her coming home

Well forgotten, say can’t you see her
Well forgotten, say can’t you see her
Moving down the line

And it’s hard to live and it’s hard to die
And it’s hard to give your heart away
And oh, pretty girl, it’s hard to steal

In April I was sleeping with an anchor
Thursday I was fishing in the harbor
where ladies sleep

And the sun will always shine upon your face
As your parents watched the silver screen
Stolen days, when freedom got its price
After the walk over frozen water

You held me down on the dirty backseat
Pressure of the hand and the fingers
And the pleasure won

And I will always go by your side
But it is hard to get drunk tonight
And It’s hard to smoke your mother’s cigarettes
Afraid of stealing, afraid of lying
Afraid of losing my mind