He was on his way back home
In a pickle of the finest malts and ales
All those demons they'd been eating at his shoes
Holes in his pockets and all the change is jangling loose

He knows how it feels
He knows how it feels
So he’ll be there to feel for you

You'll be lending but he'll be spending it on you
No better medicine than a bar room afternoon
The fires burnt and all the fiddles they took flight
Bartender’s sleeping worries fleeting hello night

He knows how it feels...

I was lost whеn I met you
Now I'm more lost than a knife in a soup bowl
But you showеd me Tom Waits
And the ways of the wild wandering and strange

He was on his way back home
In a brine of Cuban rum and ginger wine
His beard burnt and ruffled by all the troubles
Of a city's wild eccentrics born to struggle
He knows how it feels ..