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The downstairs girls have alot to say about the uptown boys that always get their way There's a loner on the corner and a stoner on the border A schizo who's two faces eyes show lots of empty spaces Next to a workingman, who does intend to make a stand in front of his dead end.. If anyone has got the nerve to try him.. The local columnist writes his word he's flying the flag of all he calls absurd and the body politic, of the town, is working thru a panic to elect a clown.. And the never ever boy endeavours on a clever ploy his motive like a locomotive, he'll go till there's nothing else for to live the tracks he's on end.. and he has got to walk.. It's just an idea that i'm tryin to say.. There's more than black and white that make up gray.. Nothin' won't move that's not in my way.. Can't you hear that train, cause it's comin' It's a loud one.. This morning i poked myself in the eye it wasn't the only reason i had to cry.. Someone i know is quite misleading, she doesn't go where she's leading Her present's no longer her past, she's still always first class.. Others i know, are all too clear in making it well known that they've got nothing to fear Letras de cancionesExcept their boss, because, he can fire them.. The unqualified beggars' lifes gone up in smoke now he finds it hard, to take a joke.. To the burning of fires and a squeeling of tires a cutting of wires in a circle of liars The law stretches far, to reach it's mark and there's nowhere you can hide when it's after dark and you're paranoid, you can never be alone.. It's just an idea that i'm tryin' to say there's more than black and white that make up gray There's nothin' won't move that's not in my way can't you hear that train, cause it's comin', it's a loud one.. A poet's been down, but now he's on the rise on forbidden thoughts he will theorize On a paradise lost, an exaggerated cost A well shined gloss, and a summer frost Flying like rockets thru writings in red are the ghosts of great spirits, both alive and dead Standing on the corner where the bricks are piled high and the first floor windows touch the sky.. and looking up, there is nothing left to say.. sallysally@usa.net From Letras Mania