Roger Withaker - Streets of london

Have you seen the old man in the close down market.
Kicking up the papers with his worn out shoes.
In his eyes you see no pride, hand held loosely at his side.
Yesterday's paper telling yesterday's news.

So, how can you tell me, you're lonely.
And say for you that the sun don't shine.
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London.
I'll show you something, to make you change your mind.

Have you seen the old girl, who walks the streets of London.
Dirt in her hair and her clothes in rags.
She's no time for talking, she keeps ride on walking.
Carrying her home in two carrier-bags.

So, how can you tell me, you lonely.
And say for you that the sun doesn't shine.
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London.
I'll show you something, to make you change your mind.

In the all night cafíƒÆ’í‚©, at a quarter past eleven,
same old man sitting there on his own.
Looking at the world over the rim of his teacup.
Each tea last an our, than he wanders home alone.

So, how can you tell me, you lonely.
And say for you that the sun doesn't shine.
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London.
I'll show you something, to make you change your mind.

Have you seen the old man outside the seamen's mission.
Memory 's fading the the metal ribons that he ware
In our winter city the rain cries little pity,
For one more forgotten hero and the world that doesn't care.

So, how can you tell me, you lonely.
And say for you that the sun doesn't shine.
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London.
I'll show you something, to make you change your mind.

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