Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine - Twenty Four Minutes From Tulse Hill lyrics

If your conscience fails you we can be your guide The runaway train will take you for a ride It's an '88 special with automatic doors Johnny Guitar, tell 'em where it goes Down the tracks like a thunderstorm past the house where I was born Guaranteed and bona fide, a genuine white knuckle ride We've got smackheads, crackheads, pensioners, pimps, anonymous alcoholics looking for a drink So put your feet up, enjoy the show Twenty four minutes from Tulse Hill let's go We've got yardies, steamers, parasitic cops Bostik boys playing chicken in the box, jackpot crackpots, Summerstown blues nineteen nervous wrecking crews Mad alsations, pit-bull terrorists, hammerheaded loan sharks trying out for Jaws 6 BMX bandits breaking all the windows, you don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows Twenty four minutes from Tulse Hill the driver's dressed in black He's dead on the dead man's handle and we ain't coming back We're going down the tracks and off the page past the dole, The Silver Blades Through the flats to the seventh floor along the walkway to your front door Up the staircase, down the hall where daddy bangs you against the wall and beats your brains in with a tablespoon AWOPBOPALOOBOPALOPBAMBOOM! Calling all cars, calling all cars check all the pubs and raid all the bars Bring in the rapists, the muggers and thieves make it safe for the OAP's House the homeless boys and girls save the children, feed the world Then put your feet up, mind the gap and take it right back to the track Fruit Bat Twenty four minutes from Tulse Hill the driver's dressed in black He's dead on the dead man's handle and we ain't coming back We're going down the tracks and on ahead where skins and angels fear to tread Up the chimneys, down the drains through the eyes of hurricanes From the brothels of Streatham, to the taking of Peckham fun, fun, fun, Here we come!