In the darkness of uneasy streets where bodies meet you head on,fed upon disease and crime
and all the time you look behind to see just who is following,
and hollowing a place to hide,inside a doorway,
beggars lay with sleeping dogs their minds fogged by the turpentine and cheap red wine and stinking of cheap cigarettes.

Debts of honour written on unease and ladies of the night who offer such delight but for a price you cannot pay,
then soon the night turns to the day,like sinking rats,rats slink away and you are left alone,left to scurry home
and feeling right as rain again,forget the pain that marches through the mews and views that pass like gashes on a sordid skin,tattooed sin will leave its mark,
skin on skin within the dark and where or what was evident,you lent to prosecutors,who prosecuted ******,another sin and one more in,into the darkness of the street,one more follow,one more meet.

Cheats and harlots,charlatans,cut-throats,turncoats all are here,running ragged through these wolves that see a sheep and bleat you may
but day backs into night
where light fades with the rights you thought you had
and 'it's bad' is just another way to say,
you've got it wrong again
you're marching through the mews of pain
and wake to find you've lain
with beggars
and with sleeping dogs.