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, stock music loops, corporate music and stock music tracks

Keywords: Nothing, stock music loops, corporate music, stock music tracks, royalty free sounds, stock music, royalty-free music, music licensing, world music, royalty-free songs, stock music sound effects, royalty free music loops, music for film, stock music downloads, royalty-free production music, music library, television music, website music, background music, royalty free music download, download music, business music, tv music, royalty free sound, commercial music, download music clips, royalty free music library, film music, royalty-free stock music, royalty free mp3, loops music beats, tv commercial ad music, background music only, 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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