| Yeah there ain’t nowhere like London town, I swear, but the once familiar
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| streets cast shadows everywhere
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| And, vultures fly, orbiting the M25, obscured by the smoke and smog that fills
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| the sky
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| The chain gang marches through the streets of London
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| As the tower bells ricochet off the cobble stone like musket fire,
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| yeah the chain gang marches through the streets of London
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| She burns like a queen for all to see, setting fire to the hearts of country
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| men like me
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| And it pains me so 'cos the higher the buildings grow, the lower the morals of
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| this city go, whoa
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| And the chain gang marches through the streets of London as the tower bells
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| ricochet off the cobble stone like musket fire
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| Yeah the chain gang marches through the streets of London, My London
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| The drones call time on the breadline, knocking off on another day desk driving,
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| ladder climbing and simply signing life away
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| While down on Tottenham court the kids with nothing else get to sing a song
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| We raise a glass to rule Britannia and hope the old girl sings along
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| So if these days are numbered, please don’t let me know
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| And, if these days are numbered, please don’t let me know!
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| And, all the rats run wild on the DLR between Canary Wharf and Bank!
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| And the chain gang marches through the streets of London, as the tower bells
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| ricochet off the cobble stone like musket fire
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| The chain gang marches through the streets of London
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| Yeah I swear, there ain’t nowhere like London where the tower bells ricochet
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| off the cobble stone like musket fire
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| The chain gang marches through the streets of London |