London Calling The Clash (1979) London calling to the faraway towns, Now war is declared - and battle come down. London calling to the underworld, Come out of the cupboard, all you boys and girls. London calling, now don't look at us, All that phoney Beatlemania has bitten the dust. London calling, see we ain't got no swing, 'cept for the ring of that truncheon thing. CHORUS The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in, Meltdown expected, the wheat is growing thin, Engines stop running, but I have no fear, London is drowning - I live by the river. London calling to the imitation zone, Forget it, brother, you can go at it alone. London calling upon the zombies of death, Quit holding out - and draw another breath. London calling - and I don't wanna shout, But when we were talking, I saw you nodding out. London calling, see we ain't got no hides, Except for that one with the yellowy eyes. CHORUS The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in, Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin, A nuclear era, but I have no fear, London is drowning - I live by the river. Now get this London calling, yeah, I was there, too, An' you know what they said? Well, some of it was true! London calling at the top of the dial, After all this, won't you give me a smile? © 1979 CBS Records

The Guns of Brixton The Clash (1979) When they kick at your front door How you gonna come? With your hands on your head Or on the trigger of your gun When the law break in How you gonna go? Shot down on the pavement Or waiting on death row CHORUS You can crush us You can bruise us But you'll have to answer to Oh, the guns of Brixton The money feels good And your life you like it well But surely your time will come As in heaven, as in hell You see, he feels like Ivan Born under the Brixton sun His game is called survivin' At the end of the harder they come You know it means no mercy They caught him with a gun No need for the Black Maria Goodbye to the Brixton sun CHORUS You can crush us You can bruise us Yes, even shoot us But oh-the guns of Brixton When they kick at your front door How you gonna come? With your hands on your head Or on the trigger of your gun CHORUS You can crush us You can bruise us Yes, even shoot us But oh-the guns of Brixton Shot down on the pavement Waiting in death row His game is called survivin' As in heaven as in hell © 1979 CBS Records

Created by campion@lclark.edu
Updated: December 2012