Autonomadic
NOTHING
By: Autonomadic
Catalog ID: 263228   Duration: 2:45   Tempo: Med Fast   BPM: 147   Vocal: Male Vocals   Explicit Lyrics
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, royalty-free stock music, royalty free audio and background music

Keywords: Nothing, royalty-free stock music, royalty free audio, background music, royalty free music library, film music, music for video, music clips, stock music downloads, royalty free mp3, cheap royalty free music, music licensing, royalty free music download, tv music, company music, music for film, television music, website music, music for videos, download music, world music, commercial music, music for tv, flash music loops, business music, royalty free music, instrumental music, websites music, stock music library, royalty free background music, royalty free website music, royalty miuci, video production school, 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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Nothing


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Nothing