| I would love to be the lucky one on Chill Avenue
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| Who could keep your heart warm when ice has turned it blue
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| But beggin' sleeping losers as they turn in for the night
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| I’m lookin' back for home and I can see the lights
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| I should be jumpin' shoutin' that I made it all this way
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| From Camden Town station on to 44th and 8th
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| Not many make it this far, many say we’re great
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| But just like them we walk on, we can’t escape our fate
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| Can’t you hear the sighin'
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| Eastside Jimmy and Southside Sue
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| Both say they needed somethin' new
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| So I’m standing at the Gates of the West
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| I burn money at the lights of the sign
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| The city casts a shadow of the perfect crime
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| I’m standing at the Gates of the East
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| I take my pulse and the pulse of my friend
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| The city casts a shadow, will I see you again?
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| The immigrants and remnants of all the glory years
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| Are clustered 'round the bar again for another round of beers
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| Little Richard’s in the kitchen playin' spoons and plates
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| He’s tellin' the waitress he’s great
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| Ah say I know somewhere back 'n' forth in time
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| Out on the dust bowls, deep in the roulette mine
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| Or in a ghetto cellar only yesterday
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| There’s a move into the future for the USA
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| I hear them cryin'
|
| Eastside Jimmy and Southside Sue
|
| Both said they needed something new
|
| Standing at the Gates of the West
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| In the shadow again
|
| I’m standing at the Gates of the West
|
| In the shadow again
|
| I’m standing at the Gates of the West
|
| In the shadow again
|
| In the shadow again |