Blackout, heatwave, .44 caliber homicide

The buns drop dead and dogs go mad

In packs on the West Side

Young girl standing on a ledge looks like another suicide

She wants to hit those bricks

'Cause the news at six gotta stick to a deadline

While the millionaires hide in Beekman Place

The bag ladies throw their bones in my face

I get attacked by a kid with stereo sound

I don't want to hear it but he won't turn it down

Life is tough but it's just enough

To hold back the tears until it's closing time

I survived, I'm still alive

But I'm getting close to the borderline

Close to the borderline



A buck three eighty

Won't buy you much lately on the street these days

And when you can get gas

You know you can't drive fast anymore on the parkways

Rich man, poor man, either way American

Shoved into the lost and found

The no nuke yell we're gonna all go to hell

With the next big meltdown

I got remote control and a color T.V.

I don't change channels so they must change me

I got real close friends that will get me high

They don't know how to talk and they ain't gonna try

I shouldn't bitch, I shouldn't cry

I'd start a revolution but I don't have time

I don't know why I'm still a nice guy

But I'm getting close to the borderline

Close to the borderline



I thought I'd sacrifice so many things

I thought I'd throw them all away

I didn't think I needed anything

But you can't afford to squander what you're not prepared to pay



I need a doctor for my pressure pills

I need a lawyer for my medical bills

I need a banker to finance my home

I need security to back my loan

It isn't new what I'm go