A powerful wind blows through here,
Every year I find myself on it.
A man stands so cold in a city so old, wandering out of his skin.
Looking for a job, a place to settle in, construction or plumbing or some such thing.
A girl on the street singing the Pet Shop Boys, rhyming too fast to tell,
Stigmata on her hands, a bible in her arms – a baby trapped within her shell.
Star crossed lovers, or crossed star haters, never the twain shall meet,
Sinking fast, or rising slow – they’ll never known when they live on the streets.
Like a violent rage, such a bloody rage…
In a mind so twisted, a life constricted a chance to settle everything,
So roll the dice baby, I ain’t got time to waste. Let’s get on our bike and end this tonight.
Little jack Horner sat in corner eating his curds and whey,
Along came a man, a gun in his hand,
And blew poor Jackie Boy away.