Down Street Lyrics

	作词 : Hackett, King
	Dear friend you've come at last
	I wish to impart to you something of a deeply personal nature
	Dare we venture off the map
	And indeed between the cracks
	To a private road of sorts
	I presume you have a strong will
	And the stomach to match the underbelly of our fair city
	You'll need this firm crowbar
	Whilst I implore you to utilise no sense of smell
	And to think people live down there
	A rush of chill air heralds our clattering necropolis railway
	Like a Transylvanian express plunging into rivers of fungi algae and eels
	Ten million rats, one for each one of us
	And to think people live down there
	A race of wild hogs inhabit the sewers of Hampstead
	A cesspool suburb superb supreme
	Catacombs of Kensal Green
	I know you'd like to slime away
	Like those walled up under Whitechapel
	But I've my own kind of Jubilee line out of sight and out of mind
	And to think you'll have to live down there
	Strangled streams, smothered rivers, London always gives me the shivers
	Forty abandoned stations and Churchill's last bolthole
	Impregnable as Hitler's bunker
	Can't you see them dancing on the platform at Down Street

	zuo ci : Hackett, King
	Dear friend you' ve come at last
	I wish to impart to you something of a deeply personal nature
	Dare we venture off the map
	And indeed between the cracks
	To a private road of sorts
	I presume you have a strong will
	And the stomach to match the underbelly of our fair city
	You' ll need this firm crowbar
	Whilst I implore you to utilise no sense of smell
	And to think people live down there
	A rush of chill air heralds our clattering necropolis railway
	Like a Transylvanian express plunging into rivers of fungi algae and eels
	Ten million rats, one for each one of us
	And to think people live down there
	A race of wild hogs inhabit the sewers of Hampstead
	A cesspool suburb superb supreme
	Catacombs of Kensal Green
	I know you' d like to slime away
	Like those walled up under Whitechapel
	But I' ve my own kind of Jubilee line out of sight and out of mind
	And to think you' ll have to live down there
	Strangled streams, smothered rivers, London always gives me the shivers
	Forty abandoned stations and Churchill' s last bolthole
	Impregnable as Hitler' s bunker
	Can' t you see them dancing on the platform at Down Street

	zuò cí : Hackett, King
	Dear friend you' ve come at last
	I wish to impart to you something of a deeply personal nature
	Dare we venture off the map
	And indeed between the cracks
	To a private road of sorts
	I presume you have a strong will
	And the stomach to match the underbelly of our fair city
	You' ll need this firm crowbar
	Whilst I implore you to utilise no sense of smell
	And to think people live down there
	A rush of chill air heralds our clattering necropolis railway
	Like a Transylvanian express plunging into rivers of fungi algae and eels
	Ten million rats, one for each one of us
	And to think people live down there
	A race of wild hogs inhabit the sewers of Hampstead
	A cesspool suburb superb supreme
	Catacombs of Kensal Green
	I know you' d like to slime away
	Like those walled up under Whitechapel
	But I' ve my own kind of Jubilee line out of sight and out of mind
	And to think you' ll have to live down there
	Strangled streams, smothered rivers, London always gives me the shivers
	Forty abandoned stations and Churchill' s last bolthole
	Impregnable as Hitler' s bunker
	Can' t you see them dancing on the platform at Down Street

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