Twenty seven years, twenty seven years done
Written six hundred songs, only twelve get sung
Eighty seven thousand cigarettes have passed through these lungs
And every single day I wish I'd never smoked one
A week brushing my teeth and a week getting my haircut
Eight years sleeping, I'm still tired when I wake up
A whole year eating and I still lost weight, fuck
Five proper girlfriends and five messy breakups
Twenty seven birthdays, twenty seven New Years
Thirty thousand quid just so I could have a few beers
Ever dying old hopes
Ever growing new fears
Don't know where I'm going but I know how I got here
I don't know where I'm running, but I know how to run
'Cause running's the thing I've always done, oh
Oh I don't know what I'm doing, but I know what I've done
I'm a hungry heart, I'm a loaded gun, oh