Oh, Rebel Lonesome, ain't it a shame?
They carved out your features, but never gave you a name.
Shattered visions from a streetlight's stare,

Keep you running from your shadow, like a fool lost in prayer.

So tell the man in gray, who counts your pay; there ain't nothing much left to lose,

When these six strings are calling your name, buddy you know you can't refuse.

Well you just sit here wasting time,

While the rest of the world, baby, walks on by,
You say that maybe you were born too late,
To show them what you could create.


Oh, Rebel Lonesome, ain't it a shame?
There's nobody here to listen to you sing about your pain.

Subtle whispers drift through halls so bare,
Staking claims for the righteous, but you never got your share.


Tell the man in gray, who counts your pay; there ain't nothing much left to lose,
When these six strings are calling your name, buddy you know you can't refuse.


Well you just sit here wasting time,
While the rest of the world, baby, walks on by,
You say that maybe you were born too late,

To show them what you could create.

Well you just sit here wasting time,

While the rest of the world, baby, walks on by,
You say that maybe you were born too late,
To show them what you could create.