Well the cop made the showdown

He was sure he was right

He had all of the lowdown

From the bank heist last night

His best friend was the robber

And his wife was a thief

All the children were killers

They couldn't get no relief

The bungalow was surrounded

When a voice loud and clear

Said, "Come on out with your hands up

Or we'll blow you out ofhere."

There was a face in the window

The TV cameras rolled

Then they cut to the announcer

And the story was told



The artist looked at the producer

The producer sat back

He said, "What we have got here

Is a perfect track

But we don't have a vocal

And we don't have a song

If we could get these things accomplished

Nothin' else could go wrong."

So he balanced the ashtray

As he picked up the phone

And said, "Send me a songwriter

Who's drifted far from home

And make sure that he's hungry

Make sure he's alone

Send me a cheeseburger

And a new Rolling Stone."

Yeah



"There's still crime in the city,"

Said the cop on the beat,

"I don't know if I can stop it

I feel like meat on the street

They paint my car like a target

I take my orders from ools

Meanwhile some kid blows my head off

Well I play by their rules

That's why I'm doin' it my way

I took the law in my hands

So here I am in the alleyway

A wad of cash in my pants

I get paid by a ten year old

He says he looks up to me

There's still crime in the city

But it's good to be free."

Yeah



Now I come from a family

That has a broken home

Sometimes I talk to Daddy

On the telephone

When he says that he loves me

I know that he does

But I wish I could see him

I wish I knew where he was

But that's the way all my friends are

Except maybe one or two

Wish I could see him this weekend

Wish I could walk in his shoes





But now I'm doin' my own thing

Sometimes I'm good, then I'm bad

Although my home has been broken

It's the best home I ever had

Yeah



Well I keep gettin' younger

My lie's been funny that way

Before I ever learned to talk

I forgot what to say

I sassed back to my mom

I sassed back to my teacher

I got thrown out of Bible school

For sassin' back to the preacher

Then I grew up to be a firemaan

Put out every fire in town

Put out anything smokin'

But when I put the hose down

The judge sent me to prison

He gave me life without parole

Wish I never put the hose down

Wish I never got old