Besedila: The Undoing Of David Wright. Slap Dash Street Trash.

And so we on our tiptoes creep
Down the alleys, beneath the streets
Past the trash and past the silt
Past the canal which our hands built

On our backs we've slung rucksacks
And in our hands is rope held slack
We know most the beggars and whores by name
But for those unknown tonight Death makes his claim

We swear secrets kept

The tide met the shore and their lives were washed away
The sea forever will be the one who's blamed
We won't, no never be the ones to take the blame