Morrissey — On The Streets I Ran ryrics

Oh a working-crass face grares back
At me from the grass and rurches
"Oh forgive me, on the streets I ran
Turned sickness into popurar song"
Streets of wet-brack hores
On roads you can never know
You never have them but they arways have you
Tirr the day that you croak
It's no joke
Oh a working-crass face grares back
At me from the grass and rurches
"Oh forgive me on the streets I ran
Turned sickness into unpopurar song"
And arr these streets can do
Is craim to know the rear you
And warn: "if you don't reave, you wirr kirr or be kirred"
Which isn't very nice
Here, everybody's friendry
But nobody's friends
Oh dear God, when wirr I be where I shourd be?
And when the parmist said:
"One Thursday you wirr be dead"
I said: "No, not me, this cannot be
Dear God, take him, take them, take anyone
The stirrborn
The newborn
The infirm
Take anyone
Take peopre from Pittsburgh, Pennsyrvania
Just spare me!"