| As he walks along the gorge’s edge
|
| He meets a sense of yesteryear
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| A window in the bank above his head
|
| Reveals his home amidst the streets
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| Subway sounds, the sounds of complaint
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| The smell of acid on his gun of paint
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| As it carves out anger in a blood-red band
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| Destroyed tomorrow by an unknown hand
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| My home
|
| Is this the way out from the endless scene?
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| Or just an entrance to another dream?
|
| And the light dies down on Broadway
|
| But as the skylight beckons him to leave
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| He hears a scream from far below
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| Within the raging water, writhes the form
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| Of brother John, he cries for help
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| The gate is fading now, but open wide
|
| But John is drowning, I must decide
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| Between the freedom I had in the rat-race
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| Or to stay forever in this forsaken place
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| Hey John!
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| He makes for the river and the gate is gone
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| Back to the void where it came from
|
| And the light dies down on Broadway |