| Ginger dyed her hair red to it her name
|
| Burny pocked his arms with a pack of camel lights
|
| Long sleeves outdoors to keep the kids from crying
|
| And ginger climbed the high wire just to make them cheer
|
| Trapeze float in a buttercup parade
|
| With clowns and plastic parachutes three red the same
|
| Clutched arms fire dropped in a bar in new york city
|
| And it’s not so far to go to find trouble
|
| A bus rattles downstairs, downtown flying
|
| With a gren seat empty and a window cracked
|
| Sleeping john snores dreaming oceans and whores
|
| All the while gluing tile on basement doors
|
| He’s burny arms brother, 'ginger's' other mate
|
| And it’s too late to tap the till, the money’s gone
|
| Arm holes long locks a house with nothing in it
|
| And it’s not so far to go to find trouble
|
| A thousand mile handhold might keep the party still
|
| If the holes heal well and the hair stays red
|
| We’ll climb another roof top and scare the crooks away
|
| A gypsy and a singer in the bone yard
|
| Walking the moonlight, losing the sign
|
| Sleeping john wakes, he doesn’t know where he is
|
| A bus stop in up state a bar in new york city
|
| And it’s not so far to go to find trouble |