(Shane MacGowan / Terry Woods)
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Oh farewell you streets of sorrow
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Oh farewell you streets of pain
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I'll not return to feel more sorrow
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Nor to see more young men slain
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Through the last six years I've lived through terror
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And in the darkened streets the pain
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Oh how I long to find some solace
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In my mind I curse the strain
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So farewell you streets of sorrow
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And farewell you streets of pain
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No I'll not return to feel more sorrow
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Nor to see more young men slain
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There were six men in Birmingham
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In Guildford there's four
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That were picked up and tortured
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And framed by the law
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And the filth got promotion
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But they're still doing time
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For being Irish in the wrong place
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And at the wrong time
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In Ireland they'll put you away in the Maze
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In England they'll keep you for several long days
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God help you if ever you're caught on these shores
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And the coppers need someone
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And they walk through that door
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You'll be counting years
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First five, then ten
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Growing old in a lonely hell
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Round the yard and the stinking cell
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From wall to wall, and back again
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A curse on the judges, the coppers and screws
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Who tortured the innocent, wrongly accused,
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For the price of promotion
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And justice to sell
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May the judged be their judges when they rot down in hell
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You'll be counting years
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First five, then ten
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Growing old in a lonely hell
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Round the yard and lousy cell
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From wall to wall, and back again
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May the whores of the empire lie awake in their beds
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And sweat as they count out the sins on their heads
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While over in Ireland eight more men lie dead
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Kicked down and shot in the back of the head
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You'll be counting years
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First five, then ten
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Growing old in a freezing hell
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Round the yard and the lousy cell
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From wall and back again
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Counting years
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First five, then ten
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Growing old in a lonely hell
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Round the yard and the lousy cell
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From wall to wall and back again
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Streets Of Sorrow / Birmingham Six
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The Pogues |