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de John Wesley Harding

I'm standing in the corridor, successfully being me
Smoking a quick cigarette to liven up the journey
Of course I got my walkman on, it's playing Let It Bleed
Cos I'm the patron saint of losers
And you're the queen of need
And I'm the patron saint of losers
So say a prayer to me
Say a prayer, you know who t'address it to

I'm walking down the station, just looking straight ahead
And I just lost my ticket, and I just lost the thread
And I wonder if just one small body could fill up all my bed
Hey I'm the patron saint of losers
And you're the queen of the dead
And I'm the patron saint of losers
That's what you said, you called me
The Patron Saint of Losers
The Patron Saint of Losers

Deliver me, deliver me from that which I've undone
Cos if you're looking for a loser, I might just be one
Martyrdom's the only thing that vaguely turns me on
Cos I'm the Patron Saint

I'm walking up the staircase, and I'm knocking at your door
And someone shouts you're out of place, you're blocking up the hall
But I've been here 15 years, so Baby it's your call
Cos I'm the patron saint of losers
Woah, honey, I've lost it all
I'm the patron saint of losers
Proud before the fall
I'm the patron saint of losers
I'm the patron saint of losers.

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