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As he walks along the gorge's edge |
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He meets a sens of yesteryear |
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A window in the bank above his head |
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Reveals his home amidst the streets |
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Subway sounds, the sounds of complaint |
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The smell of acid on his gun of paint |
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As he carves out anger in a blood-red band |
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Destroyed tomorrow by unknown hand; |
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-My home |
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Is this the way out from the endless scene |
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Or just an entrance to another dream |
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And the light dies down on Broadway |
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But as the skylight beckons him to leave |
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He hears a scream from far below |
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Within the raging water, writhes the for |
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Of brogher John, he cries for help |
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Teh gate is fading now, but open wide |
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But John is drowning, I must decide |
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Between the freedom I had in the rat-racee |
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Or to stay forever in this forsaken place |
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Hey John! |
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He makes for the river and the gate is gone |
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Back to the void where it came from |
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And the light dies down on Broadway |
