: (Strummer/Jones) Who needs remote control From the Civic Hall Push a button Activate You gotta work an' you're late It's so grey in London town With
To the dictators of the world In fact it's giving orders An' they can't afford to miss a word I'm so bored with the U...S...A... But what can I do?
They said, "Fly to Amsterdam" The people laughed but the press went mad Ooh ooh ooh someone's really smart Ooh ooh ooh complete control, that's a laugh
Wilson, your cool operator Ken Boothe for UK pop reggae With backing bands sound systems And if they've got anything to say There's many black ears
: (Strummer/Jones) London's burning! London's burning! All across the town, all across the night Everybody's driving with full headlights Black or white
: (Strummer/Jones) He's in love with rock'n'roll woaahh He's in love with gettin' stoned woaahh He's in love with Janie Jones But he don't like his boring
: (Strummer/Jones) The offered me the office, offered me the shop They said I'd better take anything they'd got Do you wanna make tea at the BBC? Do
s my name Dad go pissed so I got clocked Couldn't hear the Tannoy so he lost the lot Offers Mum a bribe through the letter box Drives you fucking mad What's
needed money 'cause I had none I fought the law and the law won (twice) I left my baby and it feels so bad Guess my race is run She's the best girl
clash city rockers You need a little jump of electrical shockers You better leave town if you only wanna knock us Nothing stands the pressure of the clash
: (Junior Murvin/Lee Perry) Police and thieves in the streets Oh yeah! Scaring the nation with their guns and ammunition Police and thieves in the street
if I can't win If someone locks me out I kick my back in An' if I get aggression I give it to them two time back Every day it's just the same With hate
Where they teach you how to be thick An' everybody's doing Just what they're told to An' nobody wants To go to jail! All the power's in the hands Of
mother's son Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors An' I'll tell you 'bout Pete, didn't want no fame Gave all his money away "Well there's something
: (Strummer/Jones) London's burning! London's burning! All across the town, all across the night Everybody's driving with full headlights Black or
re so right But the truth is only known by guttersnipes There's twenty-two singers! But one microphone Back in the garage There's five guitar players
