| Oh I lie awake, I’m fit to break
|
| And my head won’t leave me alone
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| I’ve to make my way through one more day
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| Strippin' knuckle to the glistenin' bone
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| Oh it’s a shit-fight! |
| hell-right! |
| down to the Boulevarde
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| Crackles in the blisterin' heat
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| Where all the women they dress like high priced hookers
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| And the men all spit in the street
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| Oh I set out this mornin' in steel capped shoes
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| I paid a hard earned dollar for all the bad news
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| All to sell my soul to these ignorant mongrels
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| They can’t stop me thinkin' of you
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| Oh, I shove aside the human tide
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| And I struggle just to keep control
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| Through the lines o cabs, the angry stabs
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| Of the traffic all split my skull
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| Where the railway cops lay into the drunks
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| And the people never seem to see
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| And all the posh kids roll to the soul-less drivel
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| I’ve been wearin' my dreams like tattered old jeans
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| All beer soaked & bloodied, the arse showin' through
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| And if I come home tonight without a knife in the neck
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| Whats left of me belongs to you
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| Follow me & we can drown together in a smoky little room
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| Help carry me by the light of the angry moon
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| A pocketful o' nails, the screechin' rails
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| Air thick enough to make ya choke
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| Five days o' grief for two relief
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| It doesn’t ever seem enough, I know
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| I need my white-hot fix o' my teenage kicks
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| I gotta get back to me
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| Among the boys o' Hades and the painted Ladies
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| Of this city’s where I’ve got to be |