No, these streets don't feel like home They're not hungry or wild enough It's a dead-end town for trash like us But I've got a full tank and a couple bucks I mean I never got nothing and I never wanted much But man, we gotta get out
No these streets ain't got no guts They're like sad sex with clumsy tongues It's a battlefield for restless punks And the cops are trapped in all their junk We just wanna read our books, turn our stereos up And man, we gotta get out
There's a light on those filthy streets Where the throwaways get weird and free Are you in with me? Does it cut you enough There's a time to bleed, and a time just to fucking run
