A Teamster's Farewell
Sobs En Route to a Penitentiary
Good-by now to the streets and the clash of wheels and
locking hubs,
The sun coming on the brass buckles and harness knobs.
The muscles of the horses sliding under their heavy
haunches,
Good-by now to the traffic policeman and his whistle,
The smash of the iron hoof on the stones,
All the crazy wonderful slamming roar of the street--
O God, there's noises I'm going to be hungry for.
poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Blue Island Intersection
Six streets come together here.
They feed people and wagons into the center.
In and out all day horses with thoughts of nose-bags,
Men with shovels, women with baskets and baby-buggies.
Six ends of streets and no sleep for them all day.
The people and wagons come and go, out and in.
Triangles of banks and drug stores watch.
The policemen whistle, the trolly cars bump:
Wheels, wheels, feet, feet, all day.
In the false dawn when the chickens blink
And the east shakes a lazy baby toe at tomorrow,
And the east fixes a lazy pink half-eye this way,
In the time when only one milk wagon crosses
These three streets, these six street ends,
It is the sleep time and they rest.
The triangle banks and the drug stores rest.
The policeman is gone, his star and gun sleep.
The owl car blutters along in a sleep walk.
poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hookywooky
Im standing with you on your roof
Looking at the chemical sky
All purple blue and oranges
Some pigeons flying by
The traffic on canal streets so noisy
Its a shock
And someones shooting fireworks or a gun
On the next block
An-an-and, I wanna hookywooky with you
I wanna hookywooky with you
The traffics so noisy its a shock
Sounds like fireworks or a gun on the next block
Ah, hookywooky with you
Your ex-lover satchel is here from france
Yet another ex
They gather about you like a mother superior
All of you still friends, but -
None of my old flames ever talk to me when things
End for me they end
They take your pants, your money, your name
But the song still remains
An-an-and, I wanna hookywooky with you
Ah-ha-ha-ha, I wanna hookywooky with you
Then they take your pants, your money, your name
But the song still remains, sayin -
I wanna hookywooky with you
Youre so civilized it hurts
I guess I could learn a lot, ha-ha...
About people, plants and relationships
How not to get hurt a lot
And each lover I meet up your roof
I wouldnt want to throw him off, mmmmm..
Into the chemical sky, down into the streets to die
Under the wheels of a car on canal street
And each lover I meet up on your roof
I wouldnt want to throw him off, mmmmm..
Into the chemical sky
Under the wheels of a car to die on canal street
Ah-ah-hi, I wanna, ah, hookywooky with you
Ah-huh, huh-huh-huh-ah
I wanna hookywooky with you
I wouldnt want to throw him off into the chemical sky
Down into the streets to die
Under the wheels of a car on canal street
Under the wheels of a car on canal street
Under the wheels of a car on canal street
Hookywooky
Under the wheels of a car on canal street
Hookywooky
Under the wheels of a car on canal street
Under the wheels of a car on canal street
Hooky-hooky-hooky-wooky
(under the wheels of a car on canal street)
(under the wheels of a car on canal street)
(under the wheels of a car on canal street)
(under the wheels of a car on canal street)
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heavy Horses
Heavy horses
By jethro tull
Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust
On octobers day, towards evening
Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough
Salt on a deep chest, seasoning
Last of the line at an honest days toil
Turning the deep sod under
Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone
Flies at the nostrils plunder.
The suffolk, the clydesdale, the percheron vie
With the shire on his feathers floating
Hauling soft timber into the dusk
To bed on a warm straw coating.
Heavy horses, move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free
Now youre down to the few
And theres no work to do
The tractors on its way.
Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion seed
To keep the old line going.
And well stand you abreast at the back of the woods
Behind the young trees growing
To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth,
Youre eighteen hands at the shoulder
And one day when the oil barons have all dripped dry
And the nights are seen to draw colder
Theyll beg for your strength, your gentle power
Your noble grace and your bearing
And youll strain once again to the sound of the gulls
In the wake of the deep plough, sharing.
Standing like tanks on the brow of the hill
Up into the cold wind facing
In stiff battle harness, chained to the world
Against the low sun racing
Bring me a wheel of oaken wood
A rein of polished leather
A heavy horse and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy weather.
Bring a song for the evening
Clean brass to flash the dawn
Across these acres glistening
Like dew on a carpet lawn
In these dark towns folk lie sleeping
As the heavy horses thunder by
To wake the dying city
With the living horsemans cry
At once the old hands quicken ---
Bring pick and wisp and curry comb ---
Thrill to the sound of all
The heavy horses coming home.
Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust
On octobers day, towards evening
Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough
Salt on a deep chest, seasoning
Bring me a wheel of oaken wood
A rein of polished leather
A heavy horse and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy weather.
Heavy horses, move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free
Now youre down to the few
And theres no work to do
The tractors on its way.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Auto Mobiles - 1268 - Parody Spectra Witter Bynner
Automobiles take toll on the streets,
decoded as route rout riot symbols trafficking influence,
clash crash of status cymbals -
so many crocodiles riding roughshod over pedestrian crossings,
slithering uncurbed from the high street banks
upstream tide marks into the flow of traffic waves.
Uptown, downtown, cross-country, all directions,
stop/go, they glow in their own night reflections
mirrored on some grid map geo-t[r]opic,
spreading pollution upon the predatory river road of time,
spinning wheels on track for appointment which completes
numbered plate phase, until each meets
planned obsolescence...
(22 July 2007)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Noises
(ian hunter/tommy morrongiello)
Noises are taking away my freedom.
Noises seem to rob me of myself.
Noises are the sound of mediocrity.
Noises ... to take that ... from out of myself.
Noises are taking away my casualness.
Noises are making me scared.
Big noises are made by big shots.
Some noises should never be heard.
Noises,
Noises,
Noises,
Noises,
Give me noises!
Noises are looking over my shoulder.
Noises are the sound of the herd.
Noises make the planet colder.
Noises are noises that should never be heard.
Noises,
Noises,
Noises,
Noises will destroy me.
Noises ...
Why not join some junky jewels, who wreck the clines on canvas fools
Who take the vapours from the mind. neo nothing. shallow kind.
A ritzy nazi owns the game, he plays at God but that was fame
And music masturbates his mind, and stones get rolled up in the slime
A new york butch becomes a blond, while changing gears while from beyond
Agree to consecrate the music makers have gotta take
Owls with trowels as big as spades, dig down among those sequined graves.
Work out their ages, turn the pages, caught in cages, locked in ages
Media momenta, who can prevent her.
Noises, noises, noises, noises
Did you find a certain street, theyre looking for thoughtless thoughts to preach
The street, the street, theyre not your drain, while waiting in the pouring rain
For your old lady out of work, brought the baby, bet your shirt
Waiting for godot did it, then whats happening the other end - rewards
And gallant knights with blunted swords
Locked away in isolation, trying to figure out why they wanna die
And thats the state of the nation.
Noises,
Noises,
Noises,
Noises, oh, oh, oh.
I love noises!
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Motor City
My old car keeps breaking down
My new car aint from japan
Theres already too many datsuns
In this town.
Another thing thats bugging me
Is this commercial on tv
Says that detroit cant make good cars any more.
Motor city.
Whos driving my car?
Whos driving my car now?
Who?
My army jeep is still alive
Got locking hubs and four wheel drive
Aint got no radio, aint got no mag wheels
Aint got no digital clock
Aint got no clock.
The paint job is lookin blue
The white walls are missing too
But I guess until I get my car back
This will do.
Whos driving my car now?
Whos driving my car now?
Who?
Whos driving my car now?
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Clashing With You
Clashing with ones inner self
Is an everyday battle
Helps one not to rattle
Or roam around like cattle.
You are your own person?
You want to be your own person?
So you clash within...over and again
As not to fully sin?
So what then?
Feelings like a turning fan...
The hurt emotions no one can stand.
Pulled by every arm...
None wish you harm...
But yet you are alarmed.
Let it be...people say...
Who are you anyway?
You can take care of self...
Or do you really need someone else?
It is woman who took that look around...
To see what she could see was sound.
Kind, wonderful, and beautiful as well...
For her not to clash would cause much hell...
We as people know that colliding sells
Keeping the jaws from a swell...
Before and after you yell.
Clashing for fun is no good...
Clashing is an art...
It appeases the owner...
It soothe the mind...
And makes one sexy and hungry for play...
Have you clash with you lately?
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Avenue C
BY B. CLAYTON, J HENDRICKS AND D. LAMBERT
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Brass: N. Y. I dig
Reeds: What about it?
Brass: N. Y. is big
Reeds: People tout it
Brass: I flip my wig
Reeds: What about?
Brass: 'Bout a street I dig
Piano (Basie's solo): One day I was walkin' n'
Finally came upon a series of alphabet streets
A-B-C and D, but I went for "C"
The most of the hard-to-forget streets
It's really and truly the dilly of all m'pet streets
Tenor sax: Hey, hey, hey everybody now
Brass: Come go walkin' with me now
Walk up avenue C now
Chicks all lookin' so pretty
They don't give me no pity
Avenue C is the grooviest in the city
Tenor sax: I never dug an avenue so enjoyable to me
"C" Avenue is groovy
Yes it was groovy as it could be
Brass: Walk with me down Avenue C
Tenor sax: Man I really hope to say
Brass: Come on baby, while we ramble
Walk beside me while we ramble
Tenor sax: You dig it too I feel you do
What a scenic hike
It's a walk that you're bound to like
Brass: Y'got "B" on the one side
Reeds: "A"
Brass: "D" on the other
Reeds: "B"
Brass: "C" in the middle
Reeds: "C"
Brass and Reeds: Baby!
Trumpet: The reason that you're feelin' so down, babe
Is 'cause you live in Stuyvesant Town, babe
I dug you down in Hamilton Fish, babe
And realized that you were my dish, babe
Walkin' home and you can walk with me
Walkin' hand in hand up Avenue C, Oh babe
And while we're walkin' we can do some talkin'
While the people dig us wonderin' what we're puttin' down
While we, happy as we can be, glide on
Takin' life in stride up to Murphy Park there beside the river
Brass: Well our feet got rhythm
Reeds: Pure pedal syncopation
Brass: 'N when we walk with 'em
Reeds: Demandin' admiration
Brass: Well our step is snappy
Reeds: Dig people step aside now
Brass: Because we're so happy
Reeds: We're takin' life in stride now
Brass: Avenue C your vibrations are followin' me. Oh yes
Reeds: Everybody busily lookin'
Brass: Yes yes
Reeds: Me and baby steadily cookin'
Brass: Yes yes
Reeds: Start at one end talkin' and movin'
Brass: Yes yes
Reeds: To the other wiggin' and groovin'
Brass: So come
Reeds: You should
Brass: And view
Reeds: I would
Brass: This Ave-
Reeds: You could
Brass: Venue
Reeds: It's good
Brass: Walk on
Reeds: "C" Avenue, see it my way
Brass: Talk on
Reeds: No better view on a highway
Ensemble: Big town you don't know 'till you see it
Brass: Walk on
Reeds: I never saw such a wonderful sight
Drum break
Ensemble: You're gonna love it
Break
Brass: I'm hip, you'll flip
Reeds: When you dig it you'll stop and linger
Brass: You'll pop your top
Reeds: What a pleasure and what a swinger
Ensemble: Go dig it cop that view it's bound to thrill you
(Come on, come on, go)
Go dig it cop that view it's bound to thrill you
(Come on, come on, now, go)
Go dig it cop that view it's bound to thrill you
Go dig it cop that view it's bound to thrill you
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wonderful Aussie Waler
When Allenby's Army smashed the Turk
Who was the bloke who did all the work
The Aussie knows and he'll tell you straight
That most of the job was done by his mate
The wonderful Aussie Waler
It was umpty-nine in the shade each day
And the wells were spoiled in the Turkish way
But with nothing to eat and plenty to do
The heart of the Waler carried him through
The wonderful, wonderful Waler
For ten long weeks through the desert hot
He plugged along and all that he got
Was a drink, or not a drink a day
But did the stamina once give way
Of the wonderful Aussie Waler?
Was he the one to desert his mate?
Just watch him coming up the straight
With twenty stone of harness and man
No wonder the Turk was an also ran
With the wonderful, wonderful Waler
When drinks were not and feeds were few
There still was his harness that he could chew
With a nibble or two at another's mane
He plucked up heart to march again
The wonderful Aussie Waler
And when everything edible seemed to be stale
A hair or two from a neighbour's tail
Makes a pleasant meal and there's no doubt
They took it turn and turn about
The wonderful, wonderful Waler
A great Australian through and through
There's a good time coming old horse for you
There's a paddock green with grass to your knees
And there you shall roll at your lordly ease
My wonderful Aussie Waler
With a gallop or two to keep you fit
And won't it bring back the thrill of it!
There 're no more hardships and little work
For the cobber who broke the heathen Turk
My wonderful, wonderful Waler
But what is that the orders tell?
This mate of mine they're going to sell
To the old home paddock you'll never come back
They are selling you as a local's hack
My wonderful, wonderful Waler
The times together that we've been through
When all that I had in the world was you
Out there! Out there in a world of men
You were more than wife or sweetheart then
My wonderful, wonderful Waler
There was trust and mateship in your eyes
A horse has no soul - All lies I All lies!
And more than a kiss or soft eyes that speak
Was your muzzling nose against my cheek
You wonderful Aussie Waler
A life long slavery is your fate
Not while a mate can still shoot straight
Your eyes - I need a steady hand -
Good bye old chap - you understand
You wonderful, wonderful Waler.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Gallop of Fire
When the north wind moans thro' the blind creek courses
And revels with harsh, hot sand,
I loose the horses, the wild red horses,
I loose the horses, the mad, red horses,
And terror is on the land.
With prophetic murmer the hills are humming,
The forest-kings bend and blow;
With hoofs of brass on the baked earth strumming,
O brave red horses, they hear us coming,
And the legions of death lean low.
O'er the wooded height, and the sandy hollow
Where the boles to the axe have rung,
Tho' they fly the foreman as flies the swallow,
The fierce red horses, my horses, follow
With flanks to the faint earth flung.
Or with frenzied hieroglyphs, fear embossing
Night's sable horizon bars,
Thro' tangled mazes of death-darts crossing,
I swing my leaders and watch them tossing
Their red manes against the stars.
But when South winds sob in the drowned creek courses
And whisper to hard wet sand,
I hold the horses, the spent red horses,
I hold the horses, the tired red horses,
And silence is on the land.
Yea, the South wind sobs among the drowned creek courses
For sorrows no man shall bind---
Ah, God! For the horses, the black plumed horses,
Dear God! For the horses, Death's own pale horses,
That raced in the tracks behind.
poem by Marie E J Pitt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If you don't have a policeman to stop traffic and let you walk across the street like you are somebody, how are you going to know you are somebody?
quote by John C. White
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inmates (We're All Crazy)
It's not like we did something wrong
We just burned down the church
While the choir within sang religious songs
And it's not like we thought we was right
We just played with the wheels of a passenger train
That cracked on the tracks one night
It's not like we ain't on the ball
We just talk to our shrinks
Huh they talk to their shrinks
No wonder we're up the wall
We're not stupid or dumb
We're the lunatic fringe who rusted the hinge
On Uncle Sam's daughters and sons
Good old boys and girls
Congregating waiting in another world
With roller coaster brains
I'magine playing with trains
Good old boys and girls
Congregating waiting in some other world
We're all crazy we're all crazy we're all crazy
Lizzy Borden took an axe and gave her mother forty whacks
And don't think we're trying to be bad
All the innocent crime seemed alright at the time
Not necessarily mad not necessarily mad
We watch every day for the bus
And the driver would say
"That's where lunatics stay"
I wonder if he's talking about us
It's not like we're vicious or gone
We just dug up the graves where your relatives lay
In old forest lawn
And it's not like we don't know the score
We're the fragile elite they dragged off the street
I guess they just couldn't take us no more
Good old boys and girls
Congregating waiting in another world
With roller coaster brains
I'magine digging up graves
Good old boys and girls
Congregating waiting in some other world
We're all crazy we're all crazy we're all crazy we're all crazy
We're all crazy we're all crazy we're all crazy we're all crazy
We're all crazy
song performed by by Alice Cooper from From The Inside
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Discharged
Carry me out
Into the wind and the sunshine,
Into the beautiful world.
O, the wonder, the spell of the streets!
The stature and strength of the horses,
The rustle and echo of footfalls,
The flat roar and rattle of wheels!
A swift tram floats huge on us . . .
It's a dream?
The smell of the mud in my nostrils
Blows brave-like a breath of the sea!
As of old,
Ambulant, undulant drapery,
Vaguery and strangely provocative,
Fluttersd and beckons. O, yonder -
Is it?-the gleam of a stocking!
Sudden, a spire
Wedged in the mist! O, the houses,
The long lines of lofty, grey houses,
Cross-hatched with shadow and light!
These are the streets . . .
Each is an avenue leading
Whither I will!
Free . . . !
Dizzy, hysterical, faint,
I sit, and the carriage rolls on with me
Into the wonderful world.
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Time Is Coming
(kix brooks/ronnie dunn)
Times are hard and the moneys tight
Day to day we fight the fight
Nothing new, the same old grind
Uphill all the way
Boss man says forget the raise
Preacher says to keep the faith
Good things come to those who wait
Tomorrows another day
Our time is coming
Where or when the good lord only knows
Our time is coming
When this road were on will turn to the street of gold
As long as we keep love alive
Something tells me well survive
Its the little things thatll get us by
And hold us together
I feel it when you hold me close
Baby we got more than most
Steady through the highs and lows
Well go on forever
Our time is coming
Where or when the good lord only knows
Our time is coming
When this road were on will turn to the street of gold
Our time is coming
Where or when the good lord only knows
Our time is coming
When this road were on will turn to the street of gold
When this road were on will turn to the street of gold
song performed by by Wade Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Drive Me Crazy
Tiger eyes
Just as wild as you make me feel
Tantalize
Make my designs hard to conceal
Trying hard to hold on to you
Waterfall in my hand you're slippin' through
Tried so hard it makes me scream
Can't you see that you're drivin' me crazy
I don't know what to do
All you do is you're drivin' me crazy
It makes me feel so good, so good, so good
Will you stay and give me time to work it out
Day by day
Lose my mind without a doubt
Don't want to hang you up this way
Just wanna lay you down and play
I'm gonna go out of my mind
Can't you see that you're drivin' me crazy
I don't know what to do
All you do is you're drivin' me crazy
It makes me feel so good, so good, so good
Can't you see that you're drivin' me crazy (you're drivin' me crazy)
I don't know what to do
All you do is you're drivin' me crazy (you're drivin' me crazy)
It makes me feel so good
Can't you see that you're drivin' me crazy (you're drivin' me crazy)
I don't know what to do
All you do is you're drivin' me crazy (you're drivin' me crazy)
It makes me feel so good
Can't you see that you're drivin' me crazy (you're drivin' me crazy)
I don't know what to do
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dying in Harness
ONLY a fallen horse, stretched out there on the road.
Stretched in the broken shafts, and crushed by the heavy load;
Only a fallen horse, and a circle of wondering eyes
Watching the 'frighted teamster goading the beast to rise.
Hold! for his toil is over—no more labor for him;
See the poor neck outstretched, and the patient eyes grow dim;
See on the friendly stones how peacefully rests the head
Thinking, if dumb beasts think, how good it is to be dead;
After the weary journey, how restful it is to lie
With the broken shafts and the cruel load—waiting only to die.
Watchers, he died in harness—died in the shafts and straps—
Fell, and the burden killed him: one of the day's mishaps—
One of the passing wonders marking the city road—
A toiler dying in harness, heedless of call or goad.
Passers, crowding the pathway, staying your steps awhile,
What is the symbol ? Only death—why should we cease to smile
At death for a beast of burden? On, through the busy street
That is ever and ever echoing the tread of the hurrying feet.
What was the sign? A symbol to touch the tireless will?
Does He who taught in parables speak in parables still?
The seed on the rock is wasted—on heedless hearts of men,
That gather and sow and grasp and lose—labor and sleep— and then—
Then for the prize!—A crowd in the street of ever-echoing tread—
The toiler, crushed by the heavy load, is there in his harness—dead!
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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City Streets
The gaudy glow of neon lights
dispels the darkness of the nights
on city streets.
They pop and fizzle noisily
creating a cacophony
on city streets.
The sober folks walk warily
and drunks stagger uncaringly
on city streets.
The ladies of the night parade
for there is money to be made
on city streets.
Drug dealers ready to retreat
if they should hear a coppers feet
on city streets.
The night shift workers wend their way
towards their work to start their day
on city streets.
The noisy revellers thin out
as one by one the signs go out
on city streets.
The gradually noises abate
and ghostly shadow congregate
on city streets.
For some few hours peace will reign
before the noise will start again
on city streets.
The early morning traffic sounds
start with the milkmen on their rounds
on city streets.
This builds up to an angry roar
as cars and lorries inward pour
on city streets
then when at last rush hour has passed
noise levels will subside at last
on city streets
I thank the lord that I am free
to leave this noise far behind me
on city streets.
I walked my beat the whole night
through exactly as I’m paid to do
on city streets.
I choose to live outside the town
where constant noise won’t get me down
on city streets.
My village is a quiet place
A haven where I need not face
the noisy streets.
8-Jun-07
poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The house on henderson
I can remember all the times
When we would go blind
We would be dead on our feet
But it was fine we had good times
In the House on Henderson Street
We would play our music
And sing our songs
And drink in the heat
When the air wasn't on
In the cold, rain or shine, through hail and sleet
We always had good times
In the house on Henderson street
We would have kegs in the kitchen
And I was itching
For that sweet feeling in my mind
Throw a tire on the roof, scream in the streets
Filled up with alcohol, lets get something to eat.
Though my memories are hazy
And the nights were crazy
I wont forget the people we'd meet
But it was fine we had good times
At the house on Henderson street.
It was fine when we lost our minds
At the house on Henderson street.
poem by Blaine McCanless
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Music Arcade
Have you ever been lost
Have you ever been found out
Have you ever felt all alone
At the end of the day
Yeah Im talkin bout gettin down
Take it easy - theres no one around
Just a mirror and you and me
And the tv sky
I was walkin down main street
Not the sidewalk but main street
Dodgin traffic with flyin feet
Thats how good I felt
Took a spin in the laundromat
Played a game in the music arcade
Kept winnin while the band played
Thats how good I felt
(chorus)
Have you ever been singled out
By a hungry man
Youre listening to the radio
Hes washin your window
When you look in those vacant eyes
How does it harmonize
With the things that you do?
Thats how good I felt
(chorus)
Theres a comet in the sky tonight
Makes me feel like Im alright
Im movin prety fast
For my size
I really didn mean to stay
As long as I have
So Ill be movin on
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slipped Away
Good morning son
It's off to school you go
Mom's gone to work you know
Mom when are you coming home
There's a bank robbery that's going on
Ooh this very morn
Mom's gone to wrok for sure
Mom when are you coming home
Officers the bank is being held
By two gunmen that don't mean well
Mom's on the job can't you tell
Mom when are you coming home
Mom when are you coming home
To see your son
Daughter don't be a policeman
Please be a school teacher instead
You're so good with the children
Mom when are you coming home
Teacher please excuse these boys from class
Their mother gone from a gunshot blast
Another cop shot down on patrol
Mom when are you coming home
Mom when are you coming home
To see your son
The gangsters killed our mother dead
All is lost from our family
They tried to save our mom in vain
She drowned in blood and she was not saved
The bank is open and the robbers jailed
And mom won't be coming home
The way they run their world so wrong
How can us brothers get along
Mom when are you coming home
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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