John Wesley Harding - The Patron Saint Of Losers

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 faguely turns me on
Cos I'm the Patron Saint