Collection / Lynch Mob / Wicked Sensation
Lyrics
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 Home