\"Why, why so quiet? my, mysterious country singer?\" she asked.
My life, a riot I'm climbing barricades in streets at night.
When I'm down fighting shadows. Twenty-five postcards in box in my room.
Telephone conversations, gas slowly leaking out of a balloon.
It's a game that I'm not sure if I keep playing for long. It's a dangerous game, it's a fine line and if one step is wrong... I have no cards to play and why got nothing to say, tonight. I've got nothing to say, tonight.