dust hi booz b suffer no who toe
but no horseshoe.
Tails high in the setting sun.
They fight for scraps, but they never done.
Street cats, they don't play by the rules.
They're the kings of the dirt
and the blackout of schools.
Street cats with their eyes on the moon.
They're howling at midnight.
They're called by noon.
Claws like daggers,
hearts of gold.
Stories they carry never told.
Under neon signs, they claim their throne.
Each one a legend out on their own.
They don't need colors, they don't need names.
Living for freedom, wild in their veins.
Street cats, they don't play by the rules.
They're the kings of the dirt and the blackout of schools.
Street cats with their eyes on the moon.
They're howling at midnight.
They're called by noon.
Horses on the pavement chasing a dream.
Feline bandits in the smoky steam.
Rough around the edges, smooth as silk.
Laughing up life like it's cream to milk.
Street cats, they don't play by the rules.
They're the kings of the dirt and the blackout of schools.
Street cats with their eyes on the moon.
They're howling at midnight.
They're called by noon.
Horses on the pavement chasing a dream.
Feline bandits in the smoky steam.
Rough around the edges, smooth as silk.
Laughing up life like it's cream to milk.
Street cats, they don't play by the rules.
They're the kings of the dirt
and the blackout of schools.
Street cats with their eyes on the moon.
They're howling at midnight.
They're called by noon.
Horses on the pavement chasing a dream.
Feline bandits in the smoky steam.
Rough around the edges, smooth as silk.
Laughing up life like it's cream to milk.