they tell me i´ve paid back the debt i owed
forty-four months since the slammer door closed
they give me a suit and put me back on the road
and my thoughts are racing
where do i go? what am i supposed to live on?
what happens when the twenty-five dollars is gone?
that leaves me lots of time to wonder why i was born
but the countdown is on

everybody´s dancing
the music sounds entrancing
but you can´t find the beat
it´s the ticking of a thousand human time bombs
who are back on the street

oh the names have been changed
but the story´s the same
history will repeat
add it all up and then divide it by zero
´cause you´re back on the street

i can´t stand the strain of this job no more
i must have forgot what i took it on for
i make lots of money, yet still i want more
and my head is blazing
i think that i´ll check out the shops downtown
sometimes it helps to buy things when i feel brought down
at this hour i might dodge those hippie low-life´s around
but the countdown is on

once you had to stand out
looking for a handout
free love and body heat
and that money´s just a crumpled green ball in your pocket
when you´re back on the street

back on the street again
said you´re back on the street again
the countdown is on
and nobody knows when

spreading like a cancer
looking for the answer
in everyone you meet
and each in his way has a hustle to play
when he´s back on the street