On the rundown streets of London The checkout girl runs inside The banker's looking broken And the grill in my head fries I'm the clown who let you down Wuh uh uh o I wish I could stop wishing for things I wish I could stop wishing for things Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh o On the rundownstreets of London The gangster bites his thumb The courier looks lonesome And the ink in my head runs
I'm the clown who let you down Wuh uh uh o I wish I could stop wishing for things I wish I could stop wishing for things Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh o I'm the clown who let you down Wuh uh uh o I wish I could stop wishing for things I wish I could stop wishing for things Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh o Wuh-uh-uh-uh-o… The rundown streets of London