No Dogs, No Blacks, No Irish
The sound of the street is the sound of the blues,
Coming from the house with the panoramic views
Where the doors are always closed to me,
Lord knows I tried, Lord knows that every time I cried,
Lord knows, a little piece inside of me is slowly stripped away.
Ch – Lay me down to sleep
With all the junkies on the street
A filthy army from the deep
Chasing dragons in their dreams
And a voice cried out, “Turn out the light, 
Tonight could be the night
This drinking didn’t kill me
But it damn sure took my life” 
And this old heart won’t beat no more 
It’s too tired, and sick, and sore to ever beat again

I walk to the beat of the driving rain,
Soaks my clothes like a freshly opened vein
And I wish I could bleed away
I feel more sinned against than sinner
More of a loser than a winner
I’m just a desperate gambler’s hand of twenty-two
And now the bars are packed with drifters,
Tricksters and shape shifters
And a crowded room is a lonely place to be.
Ch