It was midnight on the murder mile Wilson Pickett's finest hour I was walking towards the flashing smile of the Crystal Palace Tower past the big old church where the hands of God were stuck on lucky 7 And the bells inside were limbering up for a sawn-off shotgun wedding From the gas board to the fire brigade there's a dozen GPO's, an all night chicken takeaway which was finger lickin' closed As I pa**ed the wonder of good old Woolworths my travel card expired It was midnight on the murder mile O.K. let's riot In the avenues and alleyways I took a short-cut to the throat I was stitched up by the boys brigade and I was beaten to a pulp I was marinaded, regurgitated and served up as a cold meat And as they shoved me in the blender I remembered as daddy told me, If the concrete and the clay beneath your feet Don't get you son The avenues and alleyways are gonna do it Just for fun They'll s** you in and spit you out And leave your family lonely The telephones on sticks will tell you 999 calls only But it's too late to call the fire brigade an ambulance or the cops I need the father, son and holy coast guard OPERATOR! Long distance, information get me Jesus on the line I need communion, confirmation and absolution for my crimes I need a character witness Jesus I think I'm about to die I saw my whole life pa** before me when the night bus pa**ed me by It was 3 O'clock on the murder mile when I came to my senses And my only d**h wish was that I had a sockful of fifty pences, a public execution that the whole neighbourhood could watch Or just a phone box, a phone box, my kingdom for a phone box If the concrete and the clay beneath your feet Don't get you son The avenues and alleyways are gonna do it Just for fun When they've s**ed you in and spat you out And left your family lonely The telephones on sticks will tell you 999 calls only