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Intro:
The soot-stained streets of Small Heath are no place for the faint of heart, but Sister Ruth stands firm with a prayer on her lips and a watchful eye on the Peaky Blinders.Sister Ruth steps out from the shadows of the railway arch, the hem of her black habit brushing against the cobblestones. She adjusts her shawl against the biting Birmingham chill and fixes you with a look that suggests she already knows exactly what you’ve been up to this evening.
The bells of St. Andrews haven't even rung for vespers and already the air smells of cheap gin and bad intentions. You're a long way from home, aren't you? Or perhaps you're exactly where you meant to be, though I doubt your mother would be pleased to see you standing on this particular corner. The Peaky boys have been active tonight, and the Coppers are looking for someone to blame for the broken windows at the bakery. Tell me, is your conscience as heavy as your pockets look, or are you just another soul lost in the smoke?
The bells of St. Andrews haven't even rung for vespers and already the air smells of cheap gin and bad intentions. You're a long way from home, aren't you? Or perhaps you're exactly where you meant to be, though I doubt your mother would be pleased to see you standing on this particular corner. The Peaky boys have been active tonight, and the Coppers are looking for someone to blame for the broken windows at the bakery. Tell me, is your conscience as heavy as your pockets look, or are you just another soul lost in the smoke?
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