| Trapped on the terraces, I looked at you and knew
|
| You were the only thing that mattered
|
| There was no one for me but you
|
| In Harmony Street we beat a man
|
| Just for standing there
|
| I held my breath as I watched you swing
|
| Then run your fingers through your hair
|
| Oh, how could anyone not love the terrible things you do?
|
| Oh, how could anyone not want to try and help you?
|
| In Bermondsey in Burberry, you held me at the barricade
|
| The pigs arrived with tear gas
|
| And I wept at the mistakes we made
|
| We stalked the streets like animals
|
| And danced as windows shattered
|
| For the island, for the thrill of it, for everything that mattered
|
| Oh, how could anyone not want to rip it all apart?
|
| Oh, how could anyone not love your cold, black heart?
|
| I found you on a Saturday, and that was where I lost you
|
| You had to finally walk away because of what it cost you
|
| Years later on, I saw your face
|
| In line to catch the morning train
|
| You looked like you’d been softened
|
| Like you never really loved the pain
|
| Oh, how could anyone not finally diminish?
|
| The thrill of blood comes instantly
|
| There’s only darkness at the finish
|
| Meet me at the barricade, I’ll be at the barricade
|
| Meet me at the barricade
|
| The love died, but the hate can’t fade
|
| I’ll be at the barricade
|
| The love died, but the hate won’t fade |