Paroles
Won’t somebody let me out?
Don’t want to stick around no more
I’m sick of lookin’ at you strange
I’m sick of stickin’ to the floor
Not one of you has got an ounce of style in ya
Said, not one of you, no
Well, fuck it all and break your nose
If they keep on pushin’ you around
If they keep on steppin’ on your toes
And pick you up when you fall down
Not one of you has got an ounce of style in ya
Said, not one of you, no
Not one of you has got an ounce of style in ya, no
Said, not one of you, no