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Versuri Closing Down The Park

Ya know, There's this park, you see, in New York That's what this song is about Where we used to grow up And, um, hang around And then we started moving on And started going on the road We weren't home that much But, back then they had this really great idea When we hit town These parks were prime real estate, you see And if we could keep them nice-looking We could charge more rent for the places around town Now, I know you guys have that here around Boston But, you know, in New York They had this great idea that there had to be a crack-down So we could sweep the park clean of the undesirable elements And we figured, what could we do? Besides vote Perhaps we could tell a song To you Through the musical medium And then you'll know So here we go I really hope so Well, here it is... Rich man smells smoke, he smells something burning green Doesn't like the odor, better put some badges on the scene Put a blue suit on everybody you see hangin' round And if that don't work, we're gonna close that park down... But anyway Yesterday a man was busted trying to walk his dog Cop didn't like his attitude, say that he was against the law Shoot everybody with a mutt this side of the town And if that don't work, we're gonna close that park down... Preach on, my wounded Chandler You know when you're walkin through that park one night Whether your skin is black or white And you feel that particular pressure on the back of your head And the hairs on the back of your neck start to stand up And you hear a (police call) Trust those hairs Because if you're big or burly Or even short and surly Or if your cat's named Shirley You could be walkin through that park And meet with the most undesirable disaster Compliments of your taxes I'm not saying its gonna happen I'm not saying that it will definitely happen But it could happen Because it has happened I mean, it could be you Or you, or you, or you, or you Those guys back there Yeah, that guy, yeah definitely Those three, easily Yup, you Yup, that guy That guy Him Those guys up there Stinky or Scarface Anybody Well, enough of my yacking What about your truth and your mother's apple pie I guess it's all another part of your grand designing lie Should I tell you something pretty so you don't end my way of life Or should I come up from behind with some stolen, bloody, rusty knife Well maybe I should sit by and watch you kill my friends And maybe I can learn to love you and hope you never end Perhaps I can learn to hate you but I think I already do All I know for sure right now, it's gotta be me or you While your uncle rolls his joints with his fifty dollar bill I'm off in some other park, and I'm laughing at you still Laughing my saggy ass of at you baby C'mon tell me all of your stories Tell me about your politics Tell me anything Tell me how you blame your kids Tell me

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