[Originally recorded by The Who at Pye Studios, London in October 1966] Look, he's crawling up my wall Black and hairy, very small Now he's up above my head Hanging by a little thread Boris the spider Boris the spider Now he's dropped on to the floor Heading for the bedroom door Maybe he's as scared as me Where's he gone now, I can't see Boris the spider Boris the spider Creepy, crawly Creepy,...

In 1989 in New York city alone 140 youths under the age of 18 Were gunned down Gunned down Bullet ridden bodies The streets are the new battle fields Someone's gonna die, the blood never stops flowing The streets are the new battle fields Littered with bullet ridden bodies And families mourning their dead. 14 years ol selling five dollar rocks of crack cocaine You ripped off the wrong people N...

[no lyrics published in the booklet]

On doorsteps and in alleyways I see these fools passed out At any time of the day Crashed out in a bed of piss Empty bottle cradled in their arms. So tell me Who's job is it to tend these few people? Back to self-sufficiency and respect I turn my head it puts chills in my heart If I give you some change to clear my mind Would I have played my part? There's a man who has a dream But never seems...

You got this habit you just can't shake There's not much more your body can take So you jab that needle in your vein Another load of dirt for your brain Scars and scars up and down your arms Your body covered in a sheet of sweat You made the choice To drag out your life In a dull drugged oblivion Eyes wide open lips blue with death Your lifeless body slumped over in a chair No show at your fun...

You're the filthy creature Crouched in the shadows Of a street light Hunched over your catch Shit, she's barely alive Blood dried up and caked in her hair Her face just a bloody mess Just when you think you're gonna Finish the job Martha comes along Just to set things straight. Gaping mouth Full of razor-sharp teeth All seeing eyes She's staring you down. She shatters your skull In her vice-li...

[lyrics aren't not published in the booklet]

A heavy rain is pouring down Upon the mourners gathered at your grave Heads bowed in deadly silence As the priest recites your eulogy Pounding nails into the lid of your coffin... Pound Casket slowly lowered into the ground Another body consigned to the grave Interned in your final resting place Launched into eternity Pounding nails into the lid of your coffin... Pound A bright light leads you...

[Instrumental]

You say you're living an empty life Your days filled with nothing but misery and strife Nobody to call your own as you're slowly wasting away In this rat-infested hole that you call home Tapping, tapping, tapping the vein Rusty razor blade slices deep Blood spurting From the gashes in your wrists Rats are crawling out From the cracks in the walls Rats are crawling down Crawling down your arms ...

Alive among the lifeless How many of us still survive? Stranded in this hell Cursed by the walking dead There's not much time left now The sun has already begun to set Time to board up the windows and doors It'll be dark in half an hour Rising from forgotten graves The dead returning to life The corpse walks Never to be killed again Boney fingers covered in moldy flesh It's got you by the neck...

Standing on a corner In the middle of the night His schizophrenic face Shrouded in the smoke Rising from the sewers Beneath the streets Cracked lips surrouded teeth Yellow and decayed. His schizophrenic face Shrouded in the thin haze Of hot breath wheezing from Dying lungs Greasy hair covers Wild blood-shot eyes Dirty toes poke through The ends of weathered Combat boots. Somewhere in this city...

Voices, do you, do you Ever hear voices? Do you ever hear voices From the dark recesses of your mind? Voices, do you, do you Ever hear voices? Do you ever hear voices Gnawing pain, driving you slowly mad? They're always different They never sound the same The dark side is beckoning me back again The phone won't stop ringing Causing me endless agony These voices in my head are always taunting m...

When I was a child I spent hours in the back of a Dark Greyhound bus. When I was a child I heard ma father curse the witch The neighborhood punchboard. I squeezed my eyes shut really tight Whenever I drove by the cemetery at night But during the day I drank whiskey and smoked cigarettes In the same cemetery that scared the shit out of me at night. When I was a child Afraid to go in the basemen...