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We then journeyed on to London Street, down which the tidal ditch continues its course.

quote by Henry Mayhew
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London Song

Theres a room in a house in a street in a manor in a borough
Thats part of a city that is generally referred to as london
Its a dark place, a mysterious place
And it is said that if youre born within the sound of bow-bells
You have the necessary qualifications to be christened a londoner
[its a cruel place, its a hard place]
But when you think back to all the great londoners
William blake, charles dickens, dick whittington,
Pearly kings, barrow boys, arthur daley, max wall
And dont forget the kray twins
But if youre ever up on highgate hill on a clear day
You can see right down to leicester square [london, london]
Crystal palace, clapham common, right down to streatham hill
North and south, I feel that Im a londoner still [london, london]
Chiswick bridge to newham and east ham
Churchbells ring out through the land
You were born in london, england
[london, london, through the dark alley-ways and passages of london]
And theres a tap by a reservoir, leading to a stream,
That turns into a river estuary that eventually opens to the sea
[london, london]
And theres a docker by a wharf, sending cargo overseas,
Unloading foreign trade from a large ocean vessel
In the mighty metropolitan port of london
[london, london, through the dark alley-ways and passages of london]
When I think of all the londoners still unsung
East-enders, west-enders, oriental-enders
Fu manchu, sherlock holmes, jack spock, henry cooper,
Thomas abecket, thomas moore, and dont forget the kray twins
Theres a part of me that says get out
Then one day Ill hear somebody shout
Sounds to me like you come from london town
But if youre ever up on highgate hill on a clear day,
Ill be there [Ill be there]
Yes I will be there [there]
Through the dark alley-ways and passages of london, london
London, london, through the dark alley-ways and passages of london, london
London, london, through the dark alley-ways and passages of london, london

song performed by Kinks
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Diggina Ditch

Unto your dreaming,
When youre alone,
Unplug the tv,
Turn off the phone.
Get heavy on with diggin your ditch.
Cause Im digging a ditch,
Where madness gives.
Digging a ditch,
Where silence lives.
Digging a ditch,
For when Im old.
Digging a ditch,
Where stories told.
Where all these troubles,
That weigh down on me will rise,
Unto your dreaming,
When youre alone.
Where all these worries,
That hold heavy on my heart,
Will die, will die, will die...
Unto your dreaming,
When youre alone.
Unplug the tv,
Turn off the phone.
Get heavy on with diggin your ditch.
Cause Im digging a ditch,
Where madness gives.
Digging a ditch,
Where silence lives in here.
Digging a ditch,
And when Im through digging this ditch,
Ill dig in for you.
Where all these disappointments,
That grow angry out of me will die.
Where all these habits,
That hold heavy on my heart will die.
Unto your dreaming, when youre alone,
Not what youre sure be or what youve become,
Just getting heavy on with digging your ditch.
Cause Im digging a ditch,
Where madness gives again.
Im digging a ditch,
Where silence lives.
Where all these troubles that weigh down on me,
Will rise, will rise, will rise, will rise...
Unto your dreaming, when youre alone,
Unplug the tv,
Turn off the phone.
Get heavy on with digging your ditch.

song performed by Dave Matthews Band
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Barrel-Organ

There's a barrel-organ carolling across a golden street
In the City as the sun sinks low;
And the music's not immortal; but the world has made it sweet
And fulfilled it with the sunset glow;
And it pulses through the pleasures of the City and the pain
That surround the singing organ like a large eternal light;
And they've given it a glory and a part to play again
In the Symphony that rules the day and night.

And now it's marching onward through the realms of old romance,
And trolling out a fond familiar tune,
And now it's roaring cannon down to fight the King of France,
And now it's prattling softly to the moon.
And all around the organ there's a sea without a shore
Of human joys and wonders and regrets;
To remember and to recompense the music evermore
For what the cold machinery forgets...

Yes; as the music changes,
Like a prismatic glass,
It takes the light and ranges
Through all the moods that pass;
Dissects the common carnival
Of passions and regrets,
And gives the world a glimpse of all
The colours it forgets.

And there La Traviata sighs
Another sadder song;
And there Il Trovatore cries
A tale of deeper wrong;
And bolder knights to battle go
With sword and shield and lance,
Than ever here on earth below
Have whirled into--a dance!--

Go down to Kew in lilac-time, in lilac-time, in lilac-time;
Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!)
And you shall wander hand in hand with love in summer's wonderland;
Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!)

The cherry-trees are seas of bloom and soft perfume and sweet perfume,
The cherry-trees are seas of bloom (and oh, so near to London!)
And there they say, when dawn is high and all the world's a blaze of sky
The cuckoo, though he's very shy, will sing a song for London.

The nightingale is rather rare and yet they say you'll hear him there
At Kew, at Kew in lilac-time (and oh, so near to London!)
The linnet and the throstle, too, and after dark the long halloo
And golden-eyed tu-whit, tu-whoo of owls that ogle London.

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Noyes
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London

New York winter
Traffic squeals
The city feels...so old
Late December
Taxi ride
Then run inside
It's cold
Got your letter Monday
I think
Or Tuesday
I lose track
Since then I've been thinking of you
And I've been
Looking back to
London
Can you believe it's
So many years since
London
Hitching a ride and
Carrying knapsacks
London
In the park
By the Thames
Drinking tea
London
Sitting in pubs and
Living in walk-ups
London
Learning the accent
Learnin' to love you
London
We were young
We we sure
We were...free
Was it really ages
Ago
The memories
Never fade
Can you hear Big Ben where
You are
And are you
Glad you stayed in
London
Dodging the rain with
Broken umbrellas
London
Reading the times
On Saturday picnics
London
Counting the stars,

[...] Read more

song performed by Barry Manilow
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London

Through the satellites, I fight with you
That loca l brew is spillin
I know just how you spend your time
I want to get my hands on him
Somebodys party in a london flat
Youre where its at and I know
You want to see me lose my mind
Im tired of chasing after you
The residue is jealous
See me on the d ark side of your mind
I want to get my hands on him
To a club thats pounding in the london rain
The world could end we wouldnt hear it
I know just whats on your mind
I see the way your face has changed
Were no good for each other
You tricked me into coming here
So let go, I dont want to go to london
I told you I dont care
I dont want to go to london
To live there
I dont want to go to london
All your friends afflicted
I dont want to go to london
Shes addicted
I saw you with h im
I know where youve been
That nose is broken wide open
Your way has got me out of line
I want to get my hands on him
You so... to make me
Prove it takes a fight to move you
I know just whats on your mind
Its been this way a thousand years
We torture each other
So why the helld you call me here
When you know
I dont want to go to london
I told you I dont care
I dont want to go to london
Live there
I dont want to go to london
All your friends afflicted
I dont want to go to london
Shes addicted
I dont want to go to london
I told you I dont care
I dont want to go to london
Cause youre not there
I dont want to go to london

[...] Read more

song performed by Third Eye Blind
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London Bye Ta-ta

London bye ta-ta
Strange young town
London bye ta-ta
Brought me down
Dont like your new face
Thats not nice
Got to go far, far
London bye ta-ta
Gigi, gigi, gigi, gigi
Take me away
Gigi, gigi, gigi, gigi
Take me today
The boys in the clothes shop
Sold me curry for a pound
His cardboard face is soggy,
And his sellings thorny crown
I loved her!
I loved her!
Ive got to get away,
But I loved her!
Oh-oh-oh
London bye ta-ta
Strange young town
London bye ta-ta
Brought me down
Dont like your new face
Thats not nice
Got to go far, far
London bye ta-ta
Red light, green light
Make up your mind
Red light, green light
Youre far too un-kind
She loves to love all beauty,
And she says the norm is funny
But she whimpers in the morning
When she finds she has no money
I loved her!
I loved her!
Ive got to get away now,
But I loved her!
Ahhh!
Oh-oh-oh
London bye ta-ta
Strange young town
London bye ta-ta
Brought me down
Dont like your new face
Thats not nice
Got to go far, far

[...] Read more

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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London

It was november 4th
I last held your hand
It seemed our time would last forever
You said dont ever leave
I thought youd never go
I wish I could just remember your name...
Youre just a memory now
Like all the ones before
But with your pain Ive had to suffer
Your eyes alight with flame
As the picture burns
I hear the screams from long ago
They cry remember, blood-red streaks on
Velvet throats at night
The streetlights fanned our trail of fame
Through
London london
The memories will never leave me
London london
All I see is you
London london
The cries in the night
Keep bringing me to
London london
Calling out to me
Oh theres some things in life I could never face
The worst is being alone
Sometimes I wish I could have taken your
Place my love
You know I dont want to live forever
Oh let me see you standing in the
Shadows once again
Well walk the streets like long ago in
London london
The fire in your eyes will be bringing me to
London london
All I need is you
The cries in the night keep ringing on in
London london
Calling out to you

song performed by Queensryche
Added by Lucian Velea
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Faces In The Street

They lie, the men who tell us in a loud decisive tone
That want is here a stranger, and that misery's unknown;
For where the nearest suburb and the city proper meet
My window-sill is level with the faces in the street --
Drifting past, drifting past,
To the beat of weary feet --
While I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street.

And cause I have to sorrow, in a land so young and fair,
To see upon those faces stamped the marks of Want and Care;
I look in vain for traces of the fresh and fair and sweet
In sallow, sunken faces that are drifting through the street --
Drifting on, drifting on,
To the scrape of restless feet;
I can sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street.

In hours before the dawning dims the starlight in the sky
The wan and weary faces first begin to trickle by,
Increasing as the moments hurry on with morning feet,
Till like a pallid river flow the faces in the street --
Flowing in, flowing in,
To the beat of hurried feet --
Ah! I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street.

The human river dwindles when 'tis past the hour of eight,
Its waves go flowing faster in the fear of being late;
But slowly drag the moments, whilst beneath the dust and heat
The city grinds the owners of the faces in the street --
Grinding body, grinding soul,
Yielding scarce enough to eat --
Oh! I sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street.

And then the only faces till the sun is sinking down
Are those of outside toilers and the idlers of the town,
Save here and there a face that seems a stranger in the street,
Tells of the city's unemployed upon his weary beat --
Drifting round, drifting round,
To the tread of listless feet --
Ah! My heart aches for the owner of that sad face in the street.

And when the hours on lagging feet have slowly dragged away,
And sickly yellow gaslights rise to mock the going day,
Then flowing past my window like a tide in its retreat,
Again I see the pallid stream of faces in the street --
Ebbing out, ebbing out,
To the drag of tired feet,
While my heart is aching dumbly for the faces in the street.

And now all blurred and smirched with vice the day's sad pages end,
For while the short `large hours' toward the longer `small hours' trend,

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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Street Fighting Man

Everywhere I hear the sound of marching, charging feet, boy
cause summers here and the time is right for fighting in the street, boy
Tell me what can a poor boy do
cept for sing for a rock n roll band
cause in this sleepy l.a. town
Theres just no place for a street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
Do you think the time is right for a palace revolution
Where I live the game to play is compromise solution
Well then what can a poor boy
cept for sing for a rock n roll band
cause in this sleepy l.a. town
Theres just no place for a street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Hey my name is called disturbance
Ill shout and scream, Ill kill the king, Ill rail at all his servants
Well what can a poor boy do
For sing for a rock n roll band
In this sleepy l.a. town
Theres just no place for
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man

song performed by Rage Against The Machine
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London's Burning

His eyes reflect the golden fire, his pupils burning bright
As he turns away they feel a sudden, crying urge to fight
Big Old Ben has run away, they always thought it might
London's Burning
London's Burning

The chapels down in Kensington are bursting into flames
The children of the neighbourhood are dancing, gone insane
They hug their parent's knees and try to cry away the shame
London's Burning
London's Burning

Members of the royalty rush in to see the Queen
She's rushed off to a bunker, told to wait and not to scream
But all of London's gone aflame, her bunker traps her here
London's Burning
London's Burning

Teenage gangs are on the prowl, they go from place to place
They need no names or calls or shouts, don't need know their race
Just know that all who wear a hood are filled to burst with rage
London's Burning
London's Burning

2 weeks on, the smoke has gone and rebels rule the streets
No-one walks the road at all for fear of who they'll meet
The dead are marked with crosses red and hid with pale sheets
London's Burning
London's Burning

2 more weeks, rotting flesh is all that you can smell
Water's got infected, and the food's all gone as well
The only people left, they wander in a living hell
London's Burning
London's Burning

poem by Matt Pocock
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The Oldest Thing In London

A thousand landmarks perish,
A hundred streets grow strange;
With all the dreams they cherish
They go the ways of change;
But, whatso towers may tumble,
And whatso bridges fall,
And whatso statues crumble
Of folk both great and small,
The Oldest Thing in London he changes not at all.

The shoutings of the foeman,
The groanings of the slain,
The galley of the Roman,
The longship of the Dane,
The warring of the nations,
The judgment of the Lord
On heedless generations
In plague and fire and sword,
The Oldest Thing in London has known them and endured.

When London wall was builded
And London stone was new,
When first Paul's spire rose gilded
And gleaming in the blue,
Ere Holbein yet was christened,
When no one dreamed of Wren,
And clear the Ty-bourne glistened
And the Fleet was seen of men
The Oldest Thing in London was not much younger then.

New Londons rise like bubbles,
Like bubbles break and pass,
Or some dark dream that troubles
A wizard's magic glass;
A little while they hustle
And glitter in the sun,
And feast and fret and bustle
And chaffer, and have done -
The Oldest Thing in London he sees them every one.

No stones so strong to weather
Sun's heat or winter's blast
But time and man together
May tear them down at last;
The toughest rafters moulder,
The stoutest beams decay,
But he seems little older
From day to changing day -
The Oldest Thing in London that passes not away.

[...] Read more

poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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London Boys

Cow bell strikes another night
Your eyes are heavy and your limbs all ache
You've bought some coffee, butter and bread
You can't make a thing cause the meter's dead
You moved away
Hold your folks you're gonna stay away
Bright lights, Soho, Wardour street
You hope you make friends with the guys that you meet
Somebody shows you round
Now you've met the London boys
Things seem good again, someone cares about you
Oh, the first time that you tried a pill
You feel a little queasy, decidedly ill
You're gonna be sick, but you mustn't lose faith
To let yourself down would be a big disgrace
With the London boys, with the London boys
You're only seventeen, but you think you've grown
In the month you've been away from your parents' home
You take the pills too much
You don't give a damn about that jobs you've got
So long as you're with the London boys
A London boy, oh a London boy
Your flashy clothes are your pride and joy
A London boy, a London boy
You think you've had a lot of fun
But you ain't got nothing, you're on the run
It's too late now, cause you're out there boy
You've got it made with the rest of the toys
Now you wish you'd never left your home
You've got what you wanted but you're on your own
With the London boys
Now you've met the London boys
Now you've met the London boys
Now you've met the London boys

song performed by David Bowie
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The London Boys

Cow bell strikes another night
Your eyes are heavy and your limbs all ache
Youve bought some coffee, butter and bread
You cant make a thing cause the meters dead
You moved away
Hold your folks youre gonna stay away
Bright lights, soho, wardour street
You hope you make friends with the guys that you meet
Somebody shows you round
Now youve met the london boys
Things seem good again, someone cares about you
Oh, the first time that you tried a pill
You feel a little queasy, decidedly ill
Youre gonna be sick, but you mustnt lose faith
To let yourself down would be a big disgrace
With the london boys, with the london boys
Youre only seventeen, but you think youve grown
In the month youve been away from your parents home
You take the pills too much
You dont give a damn about that jobs youve got
So long as youre with the london boys
A london boy, oh a london boy
Your flashy clothes are your pride and joy
A london boy, a london boy
You think youve had a lot of fun
But you aint got nothing, youre on the run
Its too late now, cause youre out there boy
Youve got it made with the rest of the toys
Now you wish youd never left your home
Youve got what you wanted but youre on your own
With the london boys
Now youve met the london boys
Now youve met the london boys
Now youve met the london boys

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tower Of London

Let me take you to trafalgar square
Let me take you there
Every streets a fashion catwalk
Everyones debonair
Let me take you to piccadilly
Guess it leads somewhere
Tower over centuries, tower over london
Tower up and frankly Im amazed
Whats done cannot be undone, not here not in london
Whats done can never be erased
So, tower up! - its those little things
Make life interesting- tower of london!
Tower up! - wasting time
Yours and mine - tower of london!
Hip london! hip london!
Let me take you to st.jamess square
Let me groove you there
Diplomats get target practice
In the open air
Psychobillies scream blue murder
Then they hit mayfair
Tower over centuries, tower over london
Tower up and frankly Im amazed
Whats done cannot be undone, not here not in london
Whats done can never be erased
So, tower up! - its those little things
Make life interesting- tower of london!
Tower up! - wasting time
Precious time - tower of london!
Tower up! Ill meet you there
Ill be there - tower of london
New york! - dont make me laugh
Ive seen photographs - tower of london...

song performed by Abc
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Down To London

Stop - whats that sound
Its the death rattle of this rusty old town
Stop - listen again
Its the sound of laughter all along the thames
Hey - whats my line
Do I have to stay here til the end of time
Im - good lookin and bright
I wanna see life after ten at night
So if they ask you where I am
Im in the back of a transit van
In a squat on the earls court road
Gone down to london turning coal into gold
Down to london - down to london
Gone down to london to be the king
Hey - whats your name
The boys back home all seem to look the same
You - should stick with me
And one of us will make it, just you see
Stop - whats that sound
Seems like the sixties are still swingin around
Hey - can you hear me back there
Or is there anybody left to care
So if you ask me where they are
Theyre hanging tough in a soho bar
Playing guitars in the underground
Gone down to london tryin to chase that sound
Down to london - down to london
Gone down to london to be the king
So I ask you should I cry or laugh
Drinking tea in a kings cross caff
A leather jacket against the cold
Gone down to london turning coal into gold
Down to london - down to london
Gone down to london to be the king

song performed by Joe Jackson
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Third Book

'TO-DAY thou girdest up thy loins thyself,
And goest where thou wouldest: presently
Others shall gird thee,' said the Lord, 'to go
Where thou would'st not.' He spoke to Peter thus,
To signify the death which he should die
When crucified head downwards.
If He spoke
To Peter then, He speaks to us the same;
The word suits many different martyrdoms,
And signifies a multiform of death,
Although we scarcely die apostles, we,
And have mislaid the keys of heaven and earth.

For tis not in mere death that men die most;
And, after our first girding of the loins
In youth's fine linen and fair broidery,
To run up hill and meet the rising sun,
We are apt to sit tired, patient as a fool,
While others gird us with the violent bands
Of social figments, feints, and formalisms,
Reversing our straight nature, lifting up
Our base needs, keeping down our lofty thoughts,
Head downward on the cross-sticks of the world.
Yet He can pluck us from the shameful cross.
God, set our feet low and our forehead high,
And show us how a man was made to walk!

Leave the lamp, Susan, and go up to bed.
The room does very well; I have to write
Beyond the stroke of midnight. Get away;
Your steps, for ever buzzing in the room,
Tease me like gnats. Ah, letters! throw them down
At once, as I must have them, to be sure,
Whether I bid you never bring me such
At such an hour, or bid you. No excuse.
You choose to bring them, as I choose perhaps
To throw them in the fire. Now, get to bed,
And dream, if possible, I am not cross.

Why what a pettish, petty thing I grow,–
A mere, mere woman,–a mere flaccid nerve,-
A kerchief left out all night in the rain,
Turned soft so,–overtasked and overstrained
And overlived in this close London life!
And yet I should be stronger.
Never burn
Your letters, poor Aurora! for they stare
With red seals from the table, saying each,
'Here's something that you know not.' Out alas,
'Tis scarcely that the world's more good and wise

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Light Skin Girl From London

Shes unique and complete
And with the dog will sleep
She loves to read - she drew her feet and
She drew jesus too
Oh yeah
Light skin girl from london
Light skin girl from london
She understands,
Shell read your hands
And take the future right outta your plans
Shell let you in, but she wont take you where she lives
Oh no, light skin girl from london
Light skin girl from london,
Yeah yeah yeah
Shes got style, but all the while
She dances to the beat out of time
She often cries, and she can speak to you through her mind
Oh no no no no
Light skin girl from london
Light skin girl from london, yeah
Solo
Light skin girl from london
Shes a light skin girl from london
Shes a,
Shes a light skin girl from london
Shes a light skin girl from london, yeah yeah
Shes a light skin girl from london, oh yeah yeah
Shes a

song performed by Lenny Kravitz
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London Pool

London Pool's in London town,
Ay, boys! O boys!
London Pool's in London town,
Where the great ships anchor down!
O to shake the canvas free,
Hear the cordage cheerily
Whistling to the open sea
Down from London Pool, O!

London Pool's a crowded place,
Ay, boys! O boys!
London Pool's a crowded place,
Crafts and crews of every race!
O to hear the clanking chain
Trail along the wharf again, -
Hear the tautening ropes astrain
Down from London Pool, O!

London Pool's a gallant sight,
Ay, boys! O boys!
London Pool's a gallant sight,
Toil by day and glare by night!
O to shake our heels and go, -
Feel the four free winds ablow,
Hail the lights of long ago
Down from London Pool, O!

poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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Trivia ; or, the Art of Walking the Streets of London : Book II.

Of Walking the Streets by Day.

Thus far the Muse has trac'd in useful lays
The proper implements for wintry ways;
Has taught the walker, with judicious eyes,
To read the various warnings of the skies.
Now venture, Muse, from home to range the town,
And for the public safety risk thy own.
For ease and for dispatch, the morning's best;
No tides of passengers the street molest.
You'll see a draggled damsel, here and there,
From Billingsgate her fishy traffic bear;
On doors the sallow milk-maid chalks her gains;
Ah! how unlike the milk-maid of the plains!
Before proud gates attending asses bray,
Or arrogate with solemn pace the way;
These grave physicians with their milky cheer,
The love-sick maid and dwindling beau repair;
Here rows of drummers stand in martial file,
And with their vellum thunder shake the pile,
To greet the new-made bride. Are sounds like these
The proper prelude to a state of peace?
Now industry awakes her busy sons,
Full charg'd with news the breathless hawker runs:
Shops open, coaches roll, carts shake the ground,
And all the streets with passing cries resound.
If cloth'd in black, you tread the busy town
Or if distinguish'd by the rev'rend gown,
Three trades avoid; oft in the mingling press,
The barber's apron soils the sable dress;
Shun the perfumer's touch with cautious eye,
Nor let the baker's step advance too nigh;
Ye walkers too that youthful colours wear,
Three sullying trades avoid with equal care;
The little chimney-sweeper skulks along,
And marks with sooty stains the heedless throng;
When small-coal murmurs in the hoarser throat,
From smutty dangers guard thy threaten'd coat:
The dust-man's cart offends thy clothes and eyes,
When through the street a cloud of ashes flies;
But whether black or lighter dyes are worn,
The chandler's basket, on his shoulder borne,
With tallow spots thy coat; resign the way,
To shun the surly butcher's greasy tray,
Butcher's, whose hands are dy'd with blood's foul stain,
And always foremost in the hangman's train.
Let due civilities be strictly paid.
The wall surrender to the hooded maid;
Nor let thy sturdy elbow's hasty rage
Jostle the feeble steps of trembling age;

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poem by John Gay
Added by Poetry Lover
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Dead End Street

Theres a crack up in the ceiling,
And the kitchen sink is leaking.
Out of work and got no money,
A sunday joint of bread and honey.
What are we living for?
Two-roomed apartment on the second floor.
No money coming in,
The rent collectors knocking, trying to get in.
We are strictly second class,
We dont understand,
(dead end!)
Why we should be on dead end street.
(dead end!)
People are living on dead end street.
(dead end!)
Gonna die on dead end street.
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
On a cold and frosty morning,
Wipe my eyes and stop me yawning.
And my feet are nearly frozen,
Boil the tea and put some toast on.
What are we living for?
Two-roomed apartment on the second floor.
No chance to emigrate,
Im deep in debt and now its much too late.
We both want to work so hard,
We cant get the chance,
(dead end!)
People live on dead end street.
(dead end!)
People are dying on dead end street.
(dead end!)
Gonna die on dead end street.
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
(dead end!)
People live on dead end street.
(dead end!)
People are dying on dead end street.
(dead end!)
Gonna die on dead end street.
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Head to my feet (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Hows it feel? (yeah)

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song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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