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Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #12,421
Peak in subgenre #889
Uploaded
March 19, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.9 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
you'll hear the subway trains on the trestle
the hopscotch games played in the west coast
you'll hear the stories of glory
you'll hear the stories of the famed & successful
but what you'll hear from only me is the truth
what goes on throughout these streets
the stories of those famed for crossing paths w/ pain & its threshold
~~~
it was shannon's time to truck stop
she watched the silhouette snicker
she watched the moon drip to the city buildings & flicker
she watched the rusty shackled fence water trickle & slither
zigzagging through chainlinks
she let the cigarette lift her
only for the midnight smog to pull her back down to that long island concrete
she parked the truck on the muddy grasses
overlooking the factory mills on the river
she trudged her mucked boots to the trestle
dipping to vignettes of her daughter
cuz see, the bridge made her miss her
she watched the ash of the cigarette blend w/ the breeze of the wind as she whispered
praying, grasping her rosary beads
enough to send goosebumps down anyone's spine
enough to make a harlem minister shiver
~~~
see, shannon never hit a jackpot
she wasn't as fortunate as you & i
she lost meaning to life 6 years ago
when she lost her daughter to suicide
~~~
jim wasn't much different
he worked night shifts at those same factory mills
he stared out the fog smeared panes splintering, chipping paint
he watched a vagabond gather his will
he watched him beg for pennies
ignored by passersby
he watched his heart shatter & spill
he watched the wind blow a napkin crusted w/ pancake grime
shuffling cross the window's once lavender sill
he stood confused by the jigsaw patterns that filled his mind
w/ thoughts of his wife walking out 2 months prior
now he's living in a one-room apartment way over in amityville
he heard rats scampering through the rundown walls shrieking
it reminded him of the fights w/ his wife
but see, he was strong
& from scratch he would build
~~~
see, every morning jim would arrive home dingy faced
he'd map his schedule on a blackboard he found in a dumpster
& when he accomplished the listed routines, he'd wipe those things erased
jim lived his life in poverty & sullen seclusion
he lived his life down in the gutters
~~~
sue woke to taxicab hums & the tap dancing classes above
the rugged raindrops splashing down on her shutters
she made her way to the jewish deli, where she'd order pancakes
topped w/ a dash of salt & a spread of butter
she rushed her way out the door
she trudged to her 9 to 5
but as she walked, each of her steps would stutter
she wiped the brim of her brow w/ a napkin
she watched the wind blow the napkin down the avenue
as it picked up grunge from the gutter
she watched it blow away
it was all a hazy blur to her
one big canvas of colors
she watched the sewer steam rise to clog the air
sitting on the usual bench at the park
watching puddles parch & fade to the sun of the summer
she fed the pigeons crumbs from her breakfast
in loneliness she had named them
spot, wally, gray & the gang
& hugging her necklace
her thoughts left her memory smothered
~~~
see, what most people don't recognize about sue is
her brother dwelled in a psychiatric ward in brooklyn
for the past seven years he's acted obsessive compulsive
even the look in his eyes was abusive
he was resistant to change
he went where his disorder took him
~~~
rick's cardboard sign marked w/ chalk depressed him all the more
“quarters? dimes? nickels?
even a copper penny
i'll take what you're willing to give, good friend
i'll take what you've got to lend me”
he was that same vagabond seen by shannon
& six years ago, his parents made their worst decision ever
they sent him to the wrong school
where he soon was influenced by pot & henny
he was introduced to shots of angel dust
he'd drift away & remember his past
in pain he'd trust
his thoughts would blossom heavy
hopin' for silence,
he'd cope with his crisis,
