Lyrics Brazzaville

Brazzaville

Mr. Suicide

What kind of a man

What kind of a son

What kind of a guy

Would just up and run

An ill-fated wind

Turned his good luck around

What kind of a man

Would just leave town

So after the fall

The cold winter sun

It seems his best days

Have come and gone

The lights of the train

The cold whistle blows

The sound of relief

From the life he chose