| This city never sleeps
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| I hear the people walk by when it’s late
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| Sirens bleed through my windowsill
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| I can’t close my eyes
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| Don’t control what I’m into
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| This tower is alive
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| The lights that blind keep me awake
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| Hood up and lace untied
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| Sleep fills my mind
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| Can’t control what I’m into
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| London calls me a stranger, a traveller
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| This is now my home, my home (Woo!)
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| I’m burning on the back street
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| Stuck here sitting in the backseat
|
| I’m blazing on the street
|
| What I do isn’t up to you
|
| And if the city never sleeps, then that makes two
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| The pavement is my friend
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| It will take me where I need to go
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| I find it trips me up
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| And puts me down
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| This is not what I’m used to
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| The shop across the road
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| Fulfills my needs and gives me company
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| When I need it
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| Voices speak through my walls
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| I don’t think I’m gonna make it
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| Past tomorrow
|
| London calls me a stranger, a traveller
|
| This is now my home, my home (Woo!)
|
| I’m burning on the back street
|
| Stuck here sitting in the backseat
|
| I’m blazing on the street
|
| What I do isn’t up to you
|
| And if the city never sleeps, then that makes two
|
| And my lungs hurt, and my ears bled
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| With the sound of the city life echoed in my head
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| Do I need this to keep me alive?
|
| The traffic stops and starts, but I need to move along
|
| London calls me a stranger
|
| This is not my home, home
|
| I’m burning on the back street
|
| Stuck here sitting in the backseat
|
| I’m blazing on the street
|
| What I do isn’t up to you
|
| And if the city never sleeps, then that makes two |