| Bow Bells strike another night
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| Your eyes are heavy and your limbs all ache
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| You’ve bought some coffee, butter and bread
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| You can’t make a thing cause the meter’s dead
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| You moved away
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| Told your folks you’re gonna stay away
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| Bright lights, Soho, Wardour street
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| You hope you make friends with the guys that you meet
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| Somebody shows you round
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| Now you’ve met the London boys
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| Things seem good again, someone cares about you
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| Oh, the first time that you tried a pill
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| You feel a little queasy, decidedly ill
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| You’re gonna be sick, but you mustn’t lose faith
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| To let yourself down would be a big disgrace
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| With the London boys, with the London boys
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| You’re only seventeen, but you think you’ve grown
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| In the month you’ve been away from your parents' home
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| You take the pills too much
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| You don’t give a damn about that jobs you’ve got
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| So long as you’re with the London boys
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| A London boy, oh a London boy
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| Your flashy clothes are your pride and joy
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| A London boy, a London boy
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| You’re crying out loud that you’re a London boy
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| You think you’ve had a lot of fun
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| But you ain’t got nothing, you’re on the run
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| It’s too late now, cause you’re out there boy
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| You’ve got it made with the rest of the toys
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| Now you wish you’d never left your home
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| You’ve got what you wanted but you’re on your own
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| With the London boys
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| Now you’ve met the London boys
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| Now you’ve met the London boys
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| Now you’ve met the London boys |