| Who was that, who was that man?
|
| Nobody knows all across this land
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| Who was that, that unknown man
|
| Who was that, who was that man?
|
| It was a wild and wet November night
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| And the rush hour was at its height
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| King’s Cross the venue that
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| The finger of death was pointed at
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| Among the crowd was a lonely soul
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| With a mission in mind and a place to go
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| Nobody knows where he was bound
|
| When his fateful steps took him underground
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| Who was that, who was that man?
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| Nobody love him across this land
|
| Who was that, that unloved man
|
| Who was that, who was that man?
|
| Through the open gates the victims poured
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| The high and the mighty and the skinned and scored
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| Up on the escalator they stood
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| That brown old thing was made of wood
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| A cigarette butt lit a fireball
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| Went all the way to the ticket hall
|
| Mamas and papas and children died
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| But there was one left there for whom no one cried
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| Who was that, who was that man?
|
| Nobody claim him across this land
|
| Who was that, an unclaimed man
|
| Who was that, who was that man?
|
| The authorities through debris
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| On radio and TV did pick
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| Exclusive pictures in the papers
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| That made the general public tick
|
| The powers that be were all aghast
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| About how this thing had come to pass
|
| But none of them seemed to care at all
|
| About the lonesome face on the station wall
|
| Who was that, who was that man?
|
| Nobody knows all across this land
|
| Who was that, that unknown man
|
| Who was that, who was that man?
|
| Who was that now?
|
| Who was that, who was that man?
|
| Nobody love him across this land
|
| Who was that, that unloved man
|
| Said nobody loves him
|
| Who was that man? |