(Part I and II)

(Rod Stewart)



In these days of changing ways

so called liberated days

a story comes to mind of a friend of mine



Georgie boy was gay I guess

nothin' more or nothin' less

the kindest guy I ever knew



His mother's tears fell in vain

the afternoon George tried to explain

that he needed love like all the rest



Pa said there must be a mistake

how can my son not be straight

after all I've said and done for him



Leavin' home on a Greyhound bus

cast out by the ones he loves

A victim of these gay days it seems



Georgie went to New York town

where he quickly settled down

and soon became the toast of the great white way



Accepted by Manhattan's elite

in all the places that were chic

No party was complete without George



Along the boulevards he'd cruise

and all the old queens blew a fuse

Everybody loved Georgie boy



The last time I saw George alive

was in the summer of seventy-five

he said he was in love I said I'm pleased



George attended the opening night

of another Broadway hype

but split before the final curtain fell



Deciding to take a short cut home

arm in arm they meant no wrong

A gentle breeze blew down Fifth Avenue



Out of a darkened side street came

a New Jersey gang with just one aim

to roll some innocent passer-by

There ensued a fearful fight

screams rang out in the night

Georgie's head hit a sidewalk cornerstone



A leather kid, a switchblade knife

He did not intend to take his life

He just pushed his luck a little too far that night



The sight of blood dispersed the gang

A crowd gathered, the police came

An