| It’s November and the streets are dirty
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| There’s glass in the road where he threw his last bottle
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| Newspapers strewn across his territory
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| Don’t go too close or you’ll be in his story
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| He’s some mother’s son, but I can’t help him
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| He’s some mother’s son, I’ll just keep on walking
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| Walk don’t walk
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| This city’s dark with its shady doorways
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| A scream in the night cuts through the warm air
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| The flash of a knife acts like a beacon
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| You play ignorant but you’re well aware
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| He’s some mother’s son, but I can’t help him
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| He’s some mother’s son, I’ll just keep on walking
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| Walk don’t walk
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| When did their hopes stop burning?
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| When did their years stop turning?
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| Where were the laws unbroken?
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| They must be unspoken
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| Walk don’t walk
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| The old townhouse has trapped a stranger
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| Too young to know what drew him inside
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| In the time that it takes him to feel the danger
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| The rest of his childhood will have died
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| He’s some mother’s son, but I can’t help him
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| He’s some mother’s son, I’ll just keep on walking
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| Walk don’t walk |