24 Minutes from Tulse Hill

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 bonafide, 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 terroists,
 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 trom 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!