On the Streets I Ran

But, they always have you
And all these street's can do
And when the palmist said
You will kill or be killed which isn't very nice
Here everybody's friendly

You never have them
Oh, dear God when will I
And warn if you don't leave
Be where I should be?
Is claim to know the real you
Turned sickness into unpopular song

The stillborn, the newborn
'Till the day that you croak, it's no joke
On roads you can never know
The infirmed, take anyone
Ooh, a working-class face glares back
Forgive me, on the street's I ran
I said, "No, not me, this cannot be

Streets of wet black holes
Forgive me, on the street's I ran
At me from the glass and lurches, oh

But nobody's friends
Dear God, take him, take them, take anyone
Turned sickness into, popular song
"One Thursday you will be dead"
Take people from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania