| There was a face on a hoarding that someone had drawn on
|
| And just enough time for the night to pass by without warning
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| Away in the distance there’s a blue flashing light
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| Someone’s in trouble somewhere tonight
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| As the flickering neon stands ready to fuse
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| The wind blows away all of yesterday’s news
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| Well, they’ve locked up their daughters
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| And they battened the hatches
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| They always could find us but they never could catch us
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| Through the grease-streaked windows of an all-night cafe
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| We watched the arrested get taken away
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| And that cigarette haze has ecology beat
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| As the whores and the drunks filed in from the street
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| 'Cause the steam’s in the boiler, the coal’s in the fire
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| If you ask how I am then I’ll just say «inspired»
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| If the thorn of a rose is the thorn in your side
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| Then you’re better off dead if you haven’t yet died
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| Ooh (Ooh)
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| Ooh
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| Ooh (La, la, la)
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| Ooh (la, la, la)
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| Ah
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| Ah
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| La-la-la-la-la…
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| 'Cause the steam’s in the boiler, the coal’s in the fire
|
| If you ask how I am then I’ll just say inspired
|
| If the thorn of a rose is the thorn in your side |
| Then you’re better off dead if you haven’t yet died
|
| Better off dead
|
| Better off dead
|
| Better off dead
|
| Better off dead
|
| Better off dead
|
| Better off dead
|
| Better off dead
|
| Better off dead |