One, two, three, four,
they`re pissing in the corridor.
I saunter through Newman Passage,
avoiding rivulets on the floor.

Short skirts, lit fags,
they`re breathing in the smokey plumes.
I stumble through Newman Passage,
avoiding retching in the fumes.

Five, six, seven, eight,
the cobbled stones do cut and grate.
I shuffle through Newman Passage,
avoiding libertines, i`m a state.

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