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There's a symphony playing in the alley for free, I hear the timpani splashing in the puddles down the streets. And there's a man sleeping in some garbage, he doesn't even make a sound, He's undisturbed, they go unheard, but he'll be dead before he's found. Oh there's a genius playing folk songs sitting out underneath a tree, He's writing about politics and making history. He plans to send a letter to his sister out in L.A. But she's so busy memorizing lines for a role she's gonna play. There's a violin singing my name somewhere, And I hear a piano that's slightly out of tune. Oh and I swear, and I swear, and I swear, I can smell apple pie, Oh it must be a Sunday afternoon. There's a coroner crawling in the shadows of the morgue, He saw the ghost of Elvis sneaking out through the back door. A politician is keeping all the money he's got right up his nose, While he's fighting the war against drugs you know. There's a violin singing my name somewhere, And I hear a piano that's slightly out of tune. Oh and I swear, and I swear, and I swear, I can smell pumpkin pie, Oh it must be a Sunday afternoon From Letras Mania