Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba
First time in New York, just seventeen
In a motel full of poets, drunks and
Queens. I walk the city streets into the
Night to see Manhattan in the early
Morning light. On the corner of a
Street they laugh and talk, the young
Men watch me coming, block my walk;
They see me slow right down - they
Know I don't belong. Then all at once
... they all break into song