| That nice easy mark at the edge of the park
 | 
| Was a slam dunk if ever I saw one
 | 
| I don’t know what happened, I just let it go by
 | 
| I guess maybe out of respect
 | 
| This old town is my home, and I’m not so far gone
 | 
| That I don’t feel like anyone else
 | 
| And it didn’t seem right to add to the wrong
 | 
| I decided to get me some help
 | 
| If not know then when? | 
| I said to myself
 | 
| Over and over again
 | 
| Make it right, get free, get rid of the junk
 | 
| I’ve heard it can happen that way
 | 
| I went down to the clinic on a hundred and tenth
 | 
| And got on the methadone program
 | 
| I waited on line every morning at nine
 | 
| For my little white cup, my reprieve
 | 
| It was going OK, I was feeling alright
 | 
| I even got back with my daughter
 | 
| I lost a few friends, who were anything but
 | 
| And just took it one day at time
 | 
| If not now then when, I kept asking myself
 | 
| Over and over again
 | 
| Make it right, get free, get rid of the junk
 | 
| They say it can happen that way
 | 
| I can’t say for sure how it all fell apart
 | 
| One thing just led to another
 | 
| Next thing I knew I had stolen a car
 | 
| I was flying straight up to the Bronx
 | 
| Must’ve lost the old touch, I blew through a toll
 | 
| They caught me just outside of Rye
 | 
| Sporting all that remained of my new-found resolve
 | 
| A shirt that said NYPD
 | 
| Some shred of my soul could almost believe
 | 
| That the Lord sent those cruisers for me
 | 
| Make it right, get free, get rid of the junk
 | 
| But it don’t always happen that way
 | 
| At the half-way house we’re all sitting around
 | 
| Watching the State of the Union
 | 
| And I’m rolling that stone right back up the hill
 | 
| Watching out for the shit coming down
 | 
| The President’s up there grining that grin
 | 
| Thinking he’s some kind of John Wayne
 | 
| We’re howling and jeering all his talk about shooting
 | 
| And drilling our way out of this
 | 
| If not now then when, I’ll keep asking myself
 | 
| Over and over again
 | 
| Make it right? | 
| Get free? | 
| Get rid of the junk?
 | 
| That nice easy mark at the edge of the park
 | 
| Was a slam dunk if ever I saw one
 | 
| I don’t know what happened, I just let it go by
 | 
| I guess maybe out of respect
 | 
| This old town is my home, and I’m not so far gone
 | 
| That I don’t feel like anyone else
 | 
| And it didn’t seem right to add to the wrong
 | 
| I decided to get me some help
 | 
| If not know then when? | 
| I said to myself
 | 
| Over and over again
 | 
| Make it right, get free, get rid of the junk
 | 
| I’ve heard it can happen that way
 | 
| I went down to the clinic on a hundred and tenth
 | 
| And got on the methadone program
 | 
| I waited on line every morning at nine
 | 
| For my little white cup, my reprieve
 | 
| It was going OK, I was feeling alright
 | 
| I even got back with my daughter
 | 
| I lost a few friends, who were anything but
 | 
| And just took it one day at time
 | 
| If not now then when, I kept asking myself
 | 
| Over and over again
 | 
| Make it right, get free, get rid of the junk
 | 
| They say it can happen that way
 | 
| I can’t say for sure how it all fell apart
 | 
| One thing just led to another
 | 
| Next thing I knew I had stolen a car
 | 
| I was flying straight up to the Bronx
 | 
| Must’ve lost the old touch, I blew through a toll
 | 
| They caught me just outside of Rye
 | 
| Sporting all that remained of my new-found resolve
 | 
| A shirt that said NYPD
 | 
| Some shred of my soul could almost believe
 | 
| That the Lord sent those cruisers for me
 | 
| Make it right, get free, get rid of the junk
 | 
| But it don’t always happen that way |