Down on the backstreets of Old Lisbon,
Where nothing lives freely but the rats,
There is another city hidden,
Where lives wallow on the filthy mats.

The stench in the air as thick as fog,
As the addicts’ smoke drifts to the sky,
Commatosed bodies litter the steps,
Oblivious to all, no wondering why.

Dead that didn’t make it through the night,
Stripped by crackheads and dopers needin’more,
Dealin’ and stealin’ all that they can,
Nothing more important than the next score.

Tales of a city miles away from here?
But look more closely around your town,
You can see all the same people there,
Looking for their high, but always down.

Kids and old folk, rich and poor alike,
Find themselves caught up in this liv’n hell,
What started as harmless fun and games,
Becomes a nightmare too hard to tell.

We walk on by with upturned faces,
Thanking God it isn’t any of ours,
Can see the harm but pretend its not there,
Just so long as they don’t steal our cars.

Government tells us to be mature,
We’re going to provide them with care,
The war on drugs can never be won,
All we need; chillout rooms, water and air.

With thoughts like that it’s too hard to tell,
If our kids were part of that damn crew,
Too late to help them when they turn cold,
When instead of one “tab”……. they took two.