The beating heart inside a crippled and dying city
The hungry buzz of business, crime, sex and music
Seek refuge in its wide obliviating embrace
In Camden Town, to disappear without a trace.
The cold breath of November soothes the pain of my wounds
My shoulder scraping the million poster bills on the walls
The door code is cracked and opens with a metallic click
Inside the empty and silent hallway the air is so still.
We meet we share our histories
We meet our lies divide us
We meet we share our histories
We meet our lies inside us
In her tattoo memories of a distant past
Of random looking connections hiding an oder above my grasp
They're tracking you!
They're watching you!
They're tracking you!
They're onto you!
We meet we share our histories
We meet our lies divide us
We meet we share our histories
We meet our lies inside us
Writer(s): Marco Visconti
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