Album: Wicked Sensation
He was a back alley street fightin man
He just do what he please
A bad strutting mother, a sucker for
His gun and his needs
Yeah, mad at the world
Thrown down and tied to the whippin' post,
Oh he's a lost soul
Who wants it all
You know a poor boy with muddy hands
Ain't got no childhood memories
There's no way out for this punk called
Street fightin' man
Yeah, street fightin man
Well there's a black cloud that covers
The city a shadow he stands
Taken through the darkest alleyways and
Taught fist, blood, and greed
And nothing more
Sad at the world
Like a heart that bleeds with a cut of a knife
Mad at the world
Poor souls how no respect
For no one at all
You know a poor boy with muddy hands
Ain't got no childhood memories
There's no way out for this punk called
Street fightin' man
Yeah, street fightin man
Oh I won't be coming home
No I won't
Street fightin' man
He was a back alley street fightin' man
He just do what he please
For ever to be damned
Just a beggar, begging on his knees
You know it's down, down, down
To the depths of his soul
There ain't no loving home man
For the street fightin' man
Street fightin' man
And mad at the world
No I won't be coming
I won't be coming
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