At me from the glass and lurches
Oh forgive me, on the streets I ran
Turned sickness into popular song
Streets of wet black holes
On roads you can never know
You never have been but they always have you
Till the day that you croak
It's no joke
Oh a working class face glares back
At me from the glass and lurches
Oh forgive me on the streets I ran
Turned sickness into unpopular song
And all these streets can do
Is to claim to know the real you
And warn if you don't leave you will kill or be killed
Which isn't very nice
Here everybody's friendly
But nobody's friends
Oh dear God, when will I be where I should be
And when the palmist said
"One Thursday you will be dead"
I said: "No, not me, this cannot be
Dear God, take him, take them, take anyone
The stillborn
The newborn
The infirm
Take anyone
Take people from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Just spare me!"
Oh a working class face glares back At me from the glass and lurches Oh forgive me, on the streets I ran Turned sickness into popular song Streets of wet black holes On roads you can never know You never have been but they always have you Till the day that you croak It's no joke Oh a working class face glares back At me from the glass and lurches Oh forgive me on the streets I ran Turned sickness into unpopular song And all these streets can do Is to claim to know the real you And warn if you don't leave you will kill or be killed Which isn't very nice Here everybody's friendly But nobody's friends Oh dear God, when will I be where I should be And when the palmist said "One Thursday you will be dead" I said: "No, not me, this cannot be Dear God, take him, take them, take anyone The stillborn The newborn The infirm Take anyone Take people from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania Just spare me!" Explain Request ×
Lyrics taken from
/lyrics/m/morrissey/on_the_streets_i_ran.html
