He Was

Could you turn the lights out, please?

Could you turn the lights out, please?

Thank you

Could you please turn the lights out?

Born and bred in the heart of the city, yeah

Born and bred in the heart of the city, yeah

Prerecorded, present time

Hate the broken images

And bones sticking out of windows

Garbage truck, ex-dump Romeo

To describe it

Blind old black man teetering on a skyscrapers' corners

Suicide on the pavement

Do you get the picture?

You begin to see no slave gods in the firmament

Hitched up during a red wheelchair swarm

Used to stay up painting in twelve hundred dollar suits

All night comic books

Waiting for some new pattern to appear

Organic energy

Any order at all

Born and bred in the heart of the city, yeah

Born and bred in the heart of the city, yeah

Of the century

Of the moon

The clouds move across the sky

Stirring up with rain

Some damn basketball game

You can hear the thunder start to say

You had to be there if you know what I mean

Old ladies, Santa Claus

Screaming at the Kennedys

You just hold that thought

Born and bred in the heart of the city, yeah

Born and bred in the heart of the city, yeah

The twilight's last gleaming

Crowds, what is this?

Suckling the pepper trees

In the park

Crowds, what is race?

Suckling the pleasant trees

To describe them

In the dark

Time jumps like some magic rebound