Comes a time it's all been stripped away,
Comes a time when it's time to take a good long look and walk away,
Comes a time to lose yourself in song,
When survival's the game you play, but you're barely just holding on.

Maybe it's yours, maybe it's mine,
Same flesh and blood, same crooked line,
Backside of the backbeat,
Yeah, doing time.

If my walls are crumbling, can I set a spell'
If you fashion up the foundation, it's all just shot to hell,
And my blueprints are really so suspect,
With my phone line good and twisted, ragged measurements.

Maybe it's yours, maybe it's mine,
Same flesh and blood, same crooked line,
Backside of the backbeat,
Yeah, doing time.

Comes a time to let the whole thing go,
Comes a time when you realise we've all been bought and sold,
Yeah, beat up, cut down, turned out of your game,
Hey, money moves the lips where once the spirit was untamed.

Maybe it's yours, maybe it's mine,
Same flesh and blood, same crooked line,
Backside of the backbeat,
Maybe it's yours, maybe it's mine,
Same flesh and blood, same crooked line,
Backside of the backbeat,
Yeah, doing time.

Doing time,
Doing time.