No-one gets outta' here alive, Welcome to the jungle, punk. Where the Crows peck out your eyes. These streets, they can cut you, A razor edged flick knife. You'll bleed here like we do, boy, Red's our favourite colour when we paint a picture, Of this dead end life. Hathian dreamin' of escapin', But I hear another storm over the South is breakin', And the rain starts comin' down, On my town, on my town. We all become shadows when the sun dies, Gather 'round the graveyard with a bottle of hooch, While the ghosts of dead friends arise, Everyone waitin' to meet a Reaper, It's your time, old timer, This town is hungry for tears an' it heard that you're a weeper. Hathian dreamin' of escapin', But I hear another storm over the South is breakin', And the rain starts comin' down, On my town, on my town. Born, But rejected, The air we're breathin' is infected. But we're never leavin', We belong, Hathian dreamin' it's our home. Hathian dreamin' of escapin', But I hear another storm over the South is breakin', And the rain starts comin' down, On my town, on my town.
