I was born on Silver Street
I lived on Wreckery Road
I work in Turkey Town
Rusted junk lies all around
And the pictures have long been still
The station posters peel
At the end of someone's map
Why don't the skies just open up
And deliver me?
Deliver me
Deliver me from this cold
No strength left to riot
Why can't the world just give and be quiet?
The wreckers have gone
No victory won
No victory won
No victory won
Deliver me
Deliver me
Deliver me from this cold