I'll tell you something, baby, that's a fact. Never see a horse, with a luggage rack. All your money, your hard earned pay. It don't mean shit, bloody hell at end of the day.
Running around like your front page news. Lonely eyes and your motorcycle boots. Tattooed heart and your jet black hair. Running 'round like you don't care.
Running around like your front page news. Lonely eyes and your motorcycle boots. Tattooed heart and your jet black hair. Running 'round like you don't care.