A man is warming his hands over the ashes of a man
Who has just set fire to himself
On Avenue A in Alphabet Land
Where walking can seriously damage your health
Where snake eyes pour over passers-by
For the slightest indication of wealth

Where the burnt out shell of a mobile
Is home for a family of six
Where once there was seven
'Til a midnight dip in a concrete suit in the Styx 
changed that
Now daddy's in heaven
Where things that go up never come down
Where it's too sharp to be a dream
Where citizens count their curses
Pray for silence, turn, and then scream

Stop this city
I want to get off
Stop this city
I want to get off
Stop this city
I want to get off
Stop this city
I want to get off

Belisha beacons are like punchlines
To some long forgotten visual joke
Orange illuminating red paint peeling from buses
That make a bee-line for the smoke
Where the streets are paved with fools gold
And the health fanatics jog, cough and choke
Where rush hour turns to happy hour
Then back again before you've noticed it
And it's always returning to the same place
At the same time but you know you can't quit
The sugar hill where the money is
Where the two car family is made or broken
On the tube with Daily Mirror masks
Shielding those too scared to say...

Stop this city
I want to get off
Stop this city
I want to get off
Stop this city
I want to get off
Stop this city
I want to get off