mob with the killers

My soul grows old, cause it rolls with the punches, of what its told.

But I don't want to roll no more,

it'll bury me in the trenches.

I'm not old, I'm not old enough no...

I'm naive, though I sleep in the street

I've lost hope, and loads of belief

You ask me how,

how close have I been

I'd say this here,

right here, is the end

and what it looks like.

My soul has been sold, to mob with the killers

I do what I'm bloody told

But I won't be sold no more,

they'll bury me with dozens of strangers

I'm not old, I'm not old enough no...