06.15.10
175th
words and music by brian hawkins, john dimeglio, and the a-train player
down beneath broadway and 175th
there exists a man who only knows one riff
and he sing: whoaa oh oh oh oh
whoaa oh oh oh oh
bouncing down the a-train to that song from before
and johnny tell me bout it
but now i can be sure
that he sing: whoaa oh oh oh
and it’s a symphony that writes itself;
it’s these symphonies -
here’s to your health!
-with some help from the soulmen
you can never tell baby
or ever ask why:
sometimes it’s sitting on a beach reading
that bukowski guy;
sometimes it’s on and on and on without end
because it’s all about love
and starting again,
and it’s that symphony that writes itself;
it’s these street symphonies -
here’s to your health!
-with some help from the soulmen
(whoa oh oh oh oh)
yeah i’ll bring the ukulele if you bring the kazoo -
i’m on a downtown V and it brings me to you
dance between flakes that fall to pavement in a city that’s yours;
scarred hearts and flasks in pockets warm
to the one, two, three, four
