This town is dead.
This world is rotting.
I've seen this country's fifty states
And I've forgotten
Every name and every place.
I've drank my way through every hour of
Every day I've spent away from home
It doesn't mean shit to me
Because I didn't see it with you.
It doesn't mean shit to me alone.
This brain is dead.
This body's rotting.
I came, I saw,
I've never conquered anything.
I've spent my life in vans, on tours,
In rich men's homes,
On poor men's floors.
I've sold my soul to find a shred of hope.
It doesn't mean shit to me
because I didn't find it with you.
It doesn't mean shit to me alone.
And some day I'll be gone,
and this all forgotten,
with these cold and lonely words.
Someday I'll be dead,
and this all for nothing,
and she'll live the way she should.
But when you see her remind her I tried
And tell Lucia to remember I tried.