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 its 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 harbour
where ladies sleep

And the sun will always shine upon your face
as your parents watched the silver screen
Stolen days, when freedom got it's 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

I will always, go by your side
but it's hard to get drunk tonight
and It's hard to smoke your mothers cigarettes
afraid of stealing
afraid of lying
afraid of losing my
mind.