| The paper’s hanging off the walls, there’s 'roaches dancing in the halls
|
| You still pay your fortune to crawl down misery street
|
| The euthanasia dream brigade are melting in the Hampstead shade
|
| The zombies of life they parade down misery street
|
| So come on over with something to do, baby, I need the company
|
| Greetings now from Shitsville, NW3
|
| Why do we stay here, God only knows — it’s not the scenery
|
| Greetings now from Shitsville, NW3
|
| Greetings now from Shitsville, London
|
| And all my neighbours disappear the second that I get too near
|
| I stick out like elephant ears on misery street
|
| It gets so hard to sleep at night, the left of me the (drunks/drugs) still fight
|
| While sirens scream off to the right down misery street
|
| The heating’s set to sauna and the carpet’s getting thin
|
| My vacuum cleaner’s blowing out instead of sucking in
|
| I drink myself to coma so that sleep escapes the din
|
| And start this shit all over again…
|
| So now I got a brand new day to tackle in the same old way
|
| The ducking and diving of bills that arrive in their seemingly hundreds to pay
|
| Greetings now from Shitsville, London (x3) |