The Hunt
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We Went Into Town On The Tuesday Night

Searching All The Places That You Hang About

We're Looking For You

In The Back Street Cellar Dive Drinking Clubs

In The Discotheques And The Gaming Pubs

We're Looking For You

You Will Pay The Price For My Own Sweet Brother

And What He Has Become

And A Hundred Other Boys And Girls

And All That You Have Done



We Picked Up The Trail At The Seven Crowns

One Of Your Cronies - He Was Doing Your Rounds

We Followed Him

Just A Silhouette Figure Up Market Pass

Where The Headlamps Shine On The Broken Glass

We Followed Him

Over The Bridge By The Old Canal

Where The Shadows Dance On The Lighted Wall

He Stopped To Light Up A Cigarette

And We Dived Into A Doorway



No Police, No Summons, No Courts Of Law

No Proper Procedure, No Rules Of War

No Mitigating Circumstance

No Lawyers Fees, No Second Chance



There Are Lasses Getting Trouble On Their Own Home Beat

There Are Old Folk Battered In The Open Street

In This City Of Ours

There Are Eyes That See But Say Nothing At All

There Are Ears That Hear But They Don't Recall

In This City Of Ours

So We Followed Your Man Back To Your Front Door

And We're Waiting For You Outside

'cos Not Everybody Here Is Scared Of You

Not Everybody Passes On The Other Side



No Police, No Summons, No Courts Of Law...



And We Could Spent Our Whole Lives Waiting

For Some Thunderbolt To Come

And We Could Spent Our Whole Lives Waiting

For Some Justice To Be Done

Unless We Make Our Own



No Police, No Summons, No Courts Of Law...