Lyrics
The game goes on
Even though the scoring's wrong
The audience watches on
The clock on the wall is long
The lead man he goes down
A hush rushes through the crowd
My good friend turns and says
"I hope that we get our bread"
Yeah, I hope that we get our bread
What a decision to come
You're finding all your friends are one
A premonition yet to come
A bullet from a broken gun
The shame sets in
So deep it will infect the bone
You try and shake
Set the fire in your home
The great blaze rages on
The water cools an empty face
You'll take what I can give you
You'll stay with me in my place
What a decision to come
You're finding all your friends are one
A premonition yet to come
A bullet from a broken gun
What a decision to come
You're finding all your friends are one
A premonition yet to come
A bullet from a broken gun