I left home when I was fifteen and went to live in a punk rock house
Don't have to tell you times were tough we were smoking grass and living on luck
Nothing in the fridge but a bottle of gin music was my only friend way back then
I felt the weather soaking in the rain felt cold upon my skin
And there was nothing to believe in, there was nothing really nothing
Where does a poor girl go?
I walked all night my feet were sore
And I was right outside your door
Won't you let me in, won't you let me in?
I watched my friends slip away into a drug drenched daze
There was no love there was ony tears, cigarette buts and empty beers
I'll leave this town i've had enough there's nothing left here but the dust
Of these sentimental shoes, these faded unstrung blues, these sentimental shoes
Of these faded unstrung blues
Writer(s): Trish Klein
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