Autonomadic
NOTHING
By: Autonomadic
Catalog ID: 263228   Duration: 2:45   Tempo: Med Fast   BPM: 147   Vocal: Male Vocals
Genre: Indie Rock Music | Punk
Social Media Link: http://www.audiosparx.com/sa/archive/Indie-Rock/Punk/Nothing/263228
Angry, political, punk rock song about homelessness.   Keywords: Angry, Political, Punk, Rock



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Long Description: Nothing, Indie Rock Music, Punk, production music library, cheap royalty free music and stock music loops

Keywords: Nothing, production music library, cheap royalty free music, stock music loops, music for video, royalty-free music, royalty free music, royalty free music library, music for tv, royalty-free song, royalty free mp3, website music, stock music clips, business music, production music, corporate music, royalty free background music, royalty free sound, flash music loops, cheap production music, television music, royalty free music downloads, royalty-free production music, royalty free music download, background music, music for videos, independent music, websites music, download stock music, stock music library, podcast music loops, news opening music, tv incidental music, Angry, Political, Punk, Rock

Lyrics:
Hey brother, can you spare a dime? I'm too hungry to swallow my pride; plus pride can't get you that drunk -- but it sure can eff you up. It's cold and lonely out here, with my empty cans of lite beer (in a plastic bag, with my Shakespeare) -- they're worth ten cents (in Michigan). My slacks are caked with feces from hiding in soggy allies, dreaming of girls and toddies (that we used to drink). And when I roll my sleeve up I've found my one and true love. It hurts like hell to come down -- that's why I just go round and round.  It's cold and lonely out here, with my empty cans of lite beer (in a plastic bag, with my Shakespeare) -- they're worth ten cents (in Michigan). My slacks are caked with feces from hiding in soggy allies, dreaming of girls and toddies (that we used to drink). This bottle that I'm holding is gone now, and I'm rolling down a steep, wet embankment; I wonder where my life went? It's cold and lonely out here, with my empty cans of lite beer (in a plastic bag, with my Shakespeare) -- they're worth ten cents (in Michigan). My slacks are caked with feces from hiding in soggy allies, dreaming of girls and toddies (that we used to drink). We'd drink them just like the man in the big house, listening to Wagner, Brahms, and Strauss (his wife, she never puts out). They've done nothing -- nothing!
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