| Stood still on a highway
|
| I saw a woman
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| By the side of the road
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| With a face that I knew like my own
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| Reflected in my window
|
| Well she walked up to my quarterlight
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| And she bent down real slow
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| A fearful pressure paralysed me
|
| In my shadow
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| She said «Son, what are you doing here?
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| My fear for you has turned me in my grave»
|
| I said «Mama, I come to the valley of the rich
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| Myself to sell»
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| She said «Son, this is the road to Hell»
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| On your journey 'cross the wilderness
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| From the desert to the well
|
| You have strayed upon the motorway to Hell
|
| Well I’m standing by the river
|
| But the water doesn’t flow
|
| It boils with every poison you can think of
|
| And I’m underneath the streetlight
|
| But the light of joy I know
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| Scared beyond belief way down in the shadows
|
| And the perverted fear of violence
|
| Chokes the smile on every face
|
| And common sense is ringing out the bell
|
| This ain’t no technological breakdown
|
| Oh no, this is the road to hell
|
| And all the roads jam up with credit
|
| And there’s nothing you can do
|
| It’s all just bits of paper flying away from you
|
| Oh look out world, take a good look what comes down here
|
| You must learn this lesson fast and learn it well
|
| This ain’t no upwardly mobile freeway
|
| Oh no, this is the road
|
| Said this is the road
|
| This is the road to hell |