He watches the barman pouring a drink for a stranger,
as he thinks to himself "who will I meet here tonight?".
He might see old friends, or catch-up with someone he worked for,
He might even get lucky, or get in a fight.
But who is that man making a noise in the corner?
It's no-one he's heard of, and not what he came here to see.
He can't name those songs, it's not music he'd like to dance to,
so he thinks it's no good, and he hears it for free.
By 'last drinks' it all happens, he cheers for the teams on the TV,
While the pool table beckons, and the jukebox lights-up on the wall.
He yells and he screams, demands everybody's attention,
But he's got nothing to say, he's got nothing at all.
Well I've had enough, I played them my songs for three hours.
I've had enough, I don't even care if they die.
I gave them my heart, poured out my soul by the glassful,
and now I've got no more to give, I wont even try,
I've got no more to give, I wont even try.