He fills the room like champange
|
Into an empty glass
|
As they slither to him like snakes
|
Through the grass
|
His stance is quiet with grace
|
|
Before they throw him into the rat race
|
And he turns to me to say
|
I'm a lonely boy
|
Even with the life, I asked for
|
|
CHourus:
|
Lonely boy, why don't you see
|
You're exactally the same as me
|
You could be the most beautiful thing
|
That I ever did see
|
With your head pointing down
|
And your friends leaving town
|
|
He sung like an angel
|
that had stepped deep inside
|
While I payed my guitar
|
and scried and cried
|
And the nails that we jam into our hearts
|
Are essential and needed for the part
|
And he turns to me to say
|
I'm a lot lke you
|
Does that mean, boy,
|
I'll be lonely too
|
|
Chourus
|
|
Days are passing like November rain
|
Constantly falling
|
But nothing here remains
|
And he turns to me to say,
|
I'm a ot like you
|
Does that mean, boy,
|
I'll be lonely too
|
|
You're home getting high everyday
|
Don't you think it's strange?
|
|
Chourus
|
|
-----------------
|
Lonely Boy
|
| Leona Naess |
