CHORUS I'd like to report something suspicious. I'd like to report something suspicious. 1. There's a sign in the street that says plain clothes police are operating in this area. Courtyards hum and buzz and ping with bulbs that tolerate no grey area, no shady characters, no buskers, no beggars, no loitering kids. This city's heart is steel and glass a clock that tutts impatiently, a metronome that somebody sped up. London vibrates to a power ballad and we crowd in like a stadium of fanatics swaying back and forth in time offering our flame. Our eyes stained by coffee cups Our lives burning away like Rizla as we try to make something stick Londons burning draw nearer CHORUS I'd like to report something suspicious. I'd like to report something suspicious. 3. Take me to your grimy London, Take me to your sweaty crevis Disappear me up the crack of a hackney'd alley lay me in the arms of a pregnant shadow, rescue flowers from the jaws of a bin. Give me what sprouts from the crack in that pavement that Portuguese Janis Joplin beating her heart into a small wooden box She has no amplification and only two string She is bigger than the billboards above her head, Newspaper applaud her as they dance at her feet and she's singing for me in the key of B here. and she's singing for me in the key of B here. CHORUS I'd like to report something suspicious. I'd like to report something suspicious. [solo] 4. Fuck your Starbucks, Fuck your sushi fuck your gated communities with broken surnames your cameras that point at us rudely and tall walls that blankly stare Fuck your metal gates that cross their arms your Georgian facades that grit their teeth, you security lights that persecute shadows, and your armies of guards and dogs. We will abandon ourselves in public places without being removed or destroyed Give us our time, give us our space. Our place to play, spit bars and skate or just loiter on roadsides slinging unlicensed melodies at passers bye for spare change. Give us some change. Chorus Give us some change. Give us some change. 5. We are the squatters, the punks, the ravers, the school leavers who want more than GDP, poets, jugglers, painters, actors people who like to stare at clouds! Polish, Spanish, students, cleaners single mums on housing lists, guardians, renters, sofa surfers nurses struggling to B and B, We serve your sushi, drive your taxis, medicate your babies and fight your wars. because we the margins hold up this profit because we the margins hold up this profit We are the flesh beneath the hard hats and steel caps and we need these buildings so give us some space back. Cos without an 'Us' there is no 'You' and without what we do you have no business Yes without an 'Us' there is no 'You' and without what we do you have no business round here, round here round here, where we're all suspicious.