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letra de in the city - milton

well we closed down, at the hoedown
an easy takedown, without a breakdown
packed the band up, filled the van up
had some hours left to k!ll

i hadn’t planned it
but i was stranded in the old hood
up to no good
clubs were sold out, and it was cold out
and i don’t like standing still
well the east side is the b-side to a sad song
it’s not a bad song
but it’s been left stacked by the junk racks
of the thrift store on the floor

and the snide talk, on the sidewalk
of the hip folks and their hip jokes and their hip clothes
when the wind blows, fadе away
forevermore

[chorus]
somе say it’s not the place they knew
now that may be sadly true
i’m so glad to be walking around
in the city

down on stanton
kids are ranting
about a [?] show, that i don’t know
while the stellar fortune teller
waves her cards across the street
and my eyes glance at the short pants
on the big-shots, dressed like robots
with their straight ‘dos, and their sp-ce shoes
sparkling silver on their feet
[chorus]
i’ll never get the whole bit down
but it’s not my turf anymore
and it’s not my town
still i’m so glad to be walking around
in the city

[instrumental]

[chorus]
i’ve walked these streets
since i was 10
somehow tonight they’re new again
again i- i’m so glad to be walking around
in the city

with the lamplight, and the clothes shops
and the banjos, and the boombox
and the headbands, and the trashcans
and the trombones, and the calzones
and the movies, and the dive bars
and the skateboards, and the old cars
and the old men, and the young girls
and the dreadlocks, and the side curls
and the gold t–th, and the fake pearls
and the tellers, and the sellers
and the church saints, and the spray paint
and the tacos, and the wackos
and the warhols, and the lou reeds
and the fresh fruit, and the bad seeds
and the speakers, and the headphones
down on bleaker, down on great jones
with the curry, and the red beans
and the junkies, and the drag queens
and the [?] and the hip-hop
and the punk rock, and the street talk
on every paved inch, on every park bench
on every tree branch, on every dude ranch
on every gumwad on every hotrod
on every anarchist parade
it makes me [?]
i’m so glad
i’m so glad
i’m so glad
i’m so glad

- milton

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