1. .
    ringleader of the tormentors albümünden bir morrissey parçası.

    sözleri:

    Ooh, a working-class face glares back
    At me from the glass and lurches
    Forgive me, on the street's I ran
    Turned sickness into, popular song

    Streets of wet black holes
    On roads you can never know
    You never have them
    But, they alway's have you
    'Till the day that you croak
    (it's no joke)

    Ooh, a working-class face glares back
    At me from the glass and lurches
    Forgive me, on the street's I ran
    Turned sickness into unpopular song

    And all these street's can do
    Is claim to know the real you
    And warn if you don't leave
    You will kill or be killed
    Which isn't very nice
    Here everybody's friendly
    But nobody's friends
    Oh, dear God when will I
    Be where I should be?

    And when the Palmist said:
    "One Thursday you will be dead"
    I said "No, not me, this cannot be,
    Dear God, take him, take them, take anyone
    The stillborn,
    The newborn
    The infirmed,
    Take anyone
    Take people from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
    Just spare me!"
    ... halit ayarcı