On the rundown streets of London   The checkout girl runs inside   The banker’s looking broken   And the grill in my head fries   I’m the clown who let you down   Wuh uh uh o      I wish I could stop wishing for things   I wish I could stop wishing for things   Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh o      On the rundownstreets of London   The gangster bites his thumb   The courier looks lonesome   And the ink in my head runs   I’m the clown who let you down   Wuh uh uh o      I wish I could stop wishing for things   I wish I could stop wishing for things   Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh o   I’m the clown who let you down   Wuh uh uh o      I wish I could stop wishing for things   I wish I could stop wishing for things   Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh o      Wuh-uh-uh-uh-o…      The rundown streets of London