There's a place in the world for the angry young man

With his working class ties and his radical plans

He refuses to bend, he refuses to crawl

and he's always at home with his back to the wall.

He's proud of the scars and the battles he's lost

He struggles and bleeds as he hangs on the cross

And he likes to be known as the angry young man.



Give a moment or two to the angry young man

With his foot in his mouth and his heart in his hand

He's been stabbed in the back, he's been misunderstood

It's a comfort to know his intentions are good

He sits in a room with a lock on the door

with his maps and his medals laid out of the floor

And he likes to be known as the angry young man.



I believe I've passed the age of consciousness and righteous rage,

I've found that just surviving was a noble fight

I once believed in causes too, had my pointless point of view

Life went on no matter who was right or wrong.



And there's always a place for the angry young man

With his fist in the air and his head in the sand

He's never been able to learn from mistakes

He can't understand why his heart always breaks

His honor is pure, and his courage as well

he's fair and he's true, and he's boring as hell

And he'll go to his grave as an angry old man.



There's a place in the world for the angry young man

With his working class ties and his radical plans

He refuses to bend, he refuses to crawl

and he's always at home with his back to the wall.

He's proud of the scars and the battles he's lost

He struggles and bleeds as he hangs on the cross

And he likes to be known as the angry young man