She lives with a broken man,
A cracked polystyrene man,
Who just crumbles and burns.
It wears me out.
If i could be who you wanted
all the time.
A thumbnail sketch, a jeweler’s stone,
A mean idea to call my own,
Old man, don’t lay so still,
You’re not yet young, there’s time to teach,
Point to point, point observation,
Children carry reservations,
Standing on the shoulders of giants
Leaves me cold.
In the suburbs that’s how we say hello,
We won’t give your money back,
We won’t care about your sack,
We won’t work for what you lack.
We would rather smoke crack.
No, we won’t listen to Beck.
On these streets there’s nothing to do.
Some of the policemen in the big city
Are good guys too.