MORRISSEY LYRICS - On The Streets I Ran

"On The Streets I Ran"



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 them 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 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!"