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Lyrics
scattered news papers wrap the street the sun blocked out from the corporate giants cast shadows on the sidewalk, a spotlight for the crowd making way fast, a lit ciggarette sleeps on the ground, topped with papers of sorts...the tourists and the usual make their path walking from here to there, they cast a scene like a "1, 2, 3" this take is the right one this city's idealistic, ya cant resist it...dont wanna resist it...and in the corner of an empty box, trash makes walls and bricks up top, he sits and watches like cinema on screen, the people, the places, the money, the greed, he directs in his mind and he loves what he sees, he hates what he is but he sure aims to please. and everyday he stands alone, a cup outreacheached out for help and he asks just for a few, to get him through the week, pass by quickly, if they move by fast enough then their just a blur, "you cant see when your drinking" but he only drinks the rain, they never stop to say hello, or even smile...to acknowledge his existence, hes fake, its all fake, cause they only see what they wanna see...the suns now hidden well, the corporate giants influennced by riots, the buisness men in ties and suits are well...like a 1, 2, 3 this takes the right one, this citys idealistic...
so he lays for a moment, reflecting on a life he guesses well lived, he plays back scenes of past time things, like when he had the whole world still...and children laughing, people smiling, they make an encore smile...he loves what he sees until he opens eyes...
hallelujah he says with a smile, ill close my eyes, please take me home cause ive been here for much too long...
so he dies...as he watches the praises of people, he lays unnoticed and peaceful for awhile...peaceful with a smile
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Bart Cardea
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