Big city, Go easy, On me. I'm nothing to care for, Nothing to see. And you seemed so much brighter On my old TV. Taxicabs and motorcars, Inflated egos
Did you ever see it coming? Found a quarter on the sidewalk Facing heads up. Doesn't that mean Ill have luck Coming my way? Now I'm stepping on famous
A weathered Monet Takes you to The bottom of a charcoal grill. And the grate above us Is street concrete. Our shrill voices Have nothing left to sing.
This canvas talks in tongues Far unrecognizable. I've been torn down and stripped To a point, And all the kings men Couldn't put it back together again
