Growing up I needed a guide like, a blind veteran's dog, Cos I was going nowhere like a child's letters to god, Though life's road was hard I was never so lost, That I looked for an answer in a medicine box, I never did pop pills, or cop deals, just rocked hills Kids with skills, still got harassed by the cops till, They'd have me in the back of a paddy, down to lock up, Smack me, pat me down for a baggy, mums would rock up, And bail me out, a failure out once again, Next weekend, bail me out, drunk again, And I never will forgive myself, For putting you through all that hell, I went from high school dropout to factory labourer, Slave to the clock until four, went from sleeping on the floor, To being out on tour, now no stopping me, I'll finish with a bang like Kurt Cobains biography. Going down a hard road, down the hard road, Don't know where I've been, and don't know where to go its like, Going down a hard road, down the hard road, ...