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These Streets:
Cross the border,
Into the big bad world
where it takes you 'bout an hour
just to cross the road
just to stumble across another poor old soul from
The dreary old lanes to the high-street madness
Eye fight with my brain to believe my eyes
and it's harder than you think
to believe this sadness
that creeps up my spine
and haunts me through the night
and life is good and the girls are gorgeuos
suddenly the air smells much greener now
and I'm wondering 'round
with a half pack of cigarettes
searching for the change that I've lost somehow