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Post flow flow my dome is still steaming |
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Passing cheap hotels toward home to get dreaming |
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The city sky is starless on foot because I'm carless |
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But the thirty block walk from the spot is not the farthest |
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That I've gone I move on kept company by neon |
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Lights 3 a.m. tonight the air is like freon |
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Fifty in my pocket not much but I can't knock it |
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Getting paid to light the mic up like a bulb in a socket |
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Flip the switch tonight I saw it in their eyes |
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The Fingers kept it live the energy never died |
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It wouldn't be denied 214 Burnside |
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We kept their heads moving even kids outside |
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You can see them on the street through the stage door gate |
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Ten o'clock even when it gets late |
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Pass the mic at the end of the night to Dave Queen |
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Then come back on Tuesday check out Sid the Tennesseans Tony |
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Green and Stella yeah I remember Tuesdays |
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No bad things now bring me back to hear the new play |
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I'll stay late with D.J. Sass until the next day |
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**** Key Largo take me back to the X-Ray |
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Take me back to the X-Ray |
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My fingers are frozen my coat is soaked through |
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My toes are past numb we've got a hundred more to do |
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They're only getting wetter got to get another up |
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Luke loads the stapler then he slaps the hammer shut |
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Tack tack tack down the right then the left side |
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If you see Five-O then you'd better step hide |
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Wait until they pass and come around the block again |
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Time to go back to work before this late night ends |
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Over on my left he's holding up another poster |
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Pushing up the corner as the staple falls close to |
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His index finger as his breath lingers in the air |
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Water trickles up his arm he doesn't seem to care |
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He doesn't wear gloves they make it hard to grab the paper |
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On a late night caper with a state of the art stapler |
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Damn it's getting cold but still we've got to pass the word |
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Plastering the poles from Hawthorne to twenty third |
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But not in front of Fred's or Crocodile they'll tear them down |
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And never cover the X-Ray's 'cause they support the sound |
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Luke will tack it back if it belongs to a friend |
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But if you cover his you'll never see your shit again so watch your |
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Posters... |
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Here we go again after the show again I've got to hit the |
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Streets work my feet and get my flow again |
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All alone and then I feel the pavement on my aching feet |
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Dawn will come before this trip's complete |
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Concrete and light rain stain the city I was born in |
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I hardly feel alive as the horizon whispers morning |
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Walking on train tracks from halls where the name's at |
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I wanted to clear my head but once again all of the pain's back |
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I'm torn between the place I'm in and where I want to be |
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Faith won't wait kid so what's it gonna be |
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Forget it and let it go take no as the answer |
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Or if you choose to do it better get serious as cancer |
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But see I took a peek and looked deep into it |
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And after what I saw I'm not so sure I should pursue it |
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Still I know a half-step is likely to be my last step |
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And playing live beats nine to fives so thrive or hit the casket |
