Across the freeway flow Against the western row On ploding shoes i go
To steal you out of tow On the phone i swear And so i will do so Up the access stair
To cash my paycheck there And down again to fare The dirty city glare Through the motor squall
To the south i bear Past the chola wall Swift and not to stall Beyond the burning tires
Among the towering spires I say that i will go And so i will do so Down the barren lanes
Heed the boarded panes To the hard window There to sign below Alone there i will go And put the money down To take you back to town Not to tell your dadOn the phone i swear.
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