| In the dark of the city backwoods, something stirs then slips away
|
| Law and order in darkest Knightsbridge. |
| Crime and punishment at play
|
| Hey, Mr. Policeman won’t you come on over. |
| Hook me up to the power lines of
|
| your love
|
| Jump start, or tow me away
|
| And through the bruised machinery, the smoking haze of industry
|
| Another day with ball and chain. |
| I do my time, then home again
|
| Hey, Mrs. Maggie won’t you come on over. |
| Hook me up to the power lines of your
|
| love
|
| Jump start, or tow me away
|
| Well, should I blame the officers? |
| Or maybe, I should blame the priest?
|
| Or should I blame the poor foot soldier who’s left to make the most from least?
|
| Hey, Jack Ripper won’t you come on over. |
| Hook me up to the power lines of your
|
| love
|
| Jump start, or tow me away
|
| You can blame the newsman talking at you on the satellite T. V
|
| And if you’re fighting for your shipyards, you might as well just blame the sea
|
| Hey, Mr. Weatherman come on over. |
| Hook me up to the power lines of your love
|
| Jump start, or tow me away |