Ahh, look at all the lonely people
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