- cifra
It's so hard to find your way
In these streets from day to day
So easy to disappear
When the night conceals you here
In the gloom of a vacant road
You'll know that you're alone
Like a pain you've never known
When you got no place to go
When you got no place to go...
When the icy winds they blow
You'll hang your head down low
You'll be wishing for that home
That sweet home you used to know
When you wander all the time
With a ragged and a worried mind
When you walk a crooked line
Then your troubles will be like mine
Then your troubles will be like mine...
