The downstairs girls have alot to say

about the uptown boys that always get their way

There's a loner on the corner and a stoner on the border

A schizo who's two faces eyes show lots of empty spaces

Next to a workingman, who does intend

to make a stand in front of his dead end..

If anyone has got the nerve to try him..



The local columnist writes his word

he's flying the flag of all he calls absurd

and the body politic, of the town, is working thru a panic

to elect a clown..

And the never ever boy endeavours on a clever ploy

his motive like a locomotive, he'll go till there's nothing else for to

live

the tracks he's on end.. and he has got to walk..



It's just an idea that i'm tryin to say..

There's more than black and white that make up gray..

Nothin' won't move that's not in my way..

Can't you hear that train, cause it's comin'

It's a loud one..



This morning i poked myself in the eye

it wasn't the only reason i had to cry..

Someone i know is quite misleading, she doesn't go where she's leading

Her present's no longer her past, she's still always first class..

Others i know, are all too clear

in making it well known that they've got nothing to fear

Except their boss, because, he can fire them..



The unqualified beggars' lifes gone up in smoke

now he finds it hard, to take a joke..

To the burning of fires and a squeeling of tires

a cutting of wires in a circle of liars

The law stretches far, to reach it's mark

and there's nowhere you can hide when it's after dark

and you're paranoid, you can never be alone..



It's just an idea that i'm tryin' to say

there's more than black and white that make up gray

There's nothin' won't move that's not in my way

can't you hear that train, cause it's comin',

it's a loud one..



A poet's been down, but now he's on the rise

on forbidden thoughts he will theorize

On a paradise lost, an exaggerated cost

A well shined gloss, and a summer frost

Flying like rockets thru writings in red

are the ghosts of great spirits, both alive and dead

Standing on the corner where the bricks are piled high

and the first floor windows touch the sky..

and looking up, there is nothing left to say..



sallysally@usa.net