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Nelson |
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I took a walk down terminal street last night |
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To see the ancient faces living there |
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I saw the sunken eyes of agony |
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And saw the desperate stations of despair |
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The madman waiting for the spirit girls to come |
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In a song well written but unsung |
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I saw the smiling wardens cracking down the noose |
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In which my drowning head was hung |
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Oh, down on terminal street |
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Oh, down on terminal street |
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The street cafe was closed to all but ghosts |
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Who glide the alleys searching for their lair |
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I heard a voice like winter call my name |
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Said very soon that I would join them there |
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And all the creatures born of ink and rage and lies |
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Crawled off my pan and ran across the page to die |
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Fascination was the germ of their disease |
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Degradation is the term of their release |
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Oh, down on terminal street |
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Oh, down on terminal street |
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Oh yes, I'm down on terminal street tonight |
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Oh no, not down on terminal street tonight |
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Oh yes, down on terminal street tonight |
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Oh no, down on terminal street tonight |
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Oh yes, I'm down on terminal street tonight |
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Terminal street! |
