I’m standing on the cobbles of a debris street br It’s written up so high, almost thirty feet br Must be as ancient as the ones that baked the clay br And it’s lasted there to this very day br Stone upon stone upon fallen stone br I trip and fall; broken bone br Stone upon stone upon fallen stone br Streets of grease no sunlight here today br I thought I’d left forever when I broke away br But here I stand on these streets again br It’s written up high I just don’t know when br Stone upon stone upon fallen stone br The author is unknown br Stone upon stone upon fallen stone br Old tramlines scar these streets carved into the stones br Remnants from a time when glue was made from bones br I can almost smell the slaughter in the air br The work horse got too old and was skinned for its fine hair br Stone upon stone upon fallen stone br Just who knocked the king from off his throne? br Stone upon stone upon fallen stone br Stone upon stone upon fallen stone br Stone upon stone upon fallen stone br Stone upon stone upon fallen stonebr br Kris Whelan (1971)br br