Going down a dirty inner city side road
I plotted
Madness passed me by, she smiled hi
I nodded
Looked up as the sky began to cry

She shot it.

Met a girl from Dearborn, early six o´clock this morn
A cold fact
Asked about her bag, suburbia´s such a drag
Won´t go back
´Cos Papa don´t allow no new ideas here
And now he sees the news, but the picture´s not too clear.

Mama, Papa, stop
Treasure what you got
Soon you may be caught
Without it
The curfew´s set for eight
Will it ever all be straight
I doubt it.

7 jealous fools playing by her rules
Can´t believe her
He feels so in between, can´t break the scene
It would grieve her
And that´s the reason why he must cry
He´ll never leave her.

Crooked children, yellow chalk
writing on the concrete walk
Their King died
Drinking from a Judas cup,
looking down but seeing up
Sweet red wine
´Cos Papa don´t allow no new ideas here
And now you hear the music
but the words don´t sound too clear.

Mama, Papa, stop
Treasure what you got
Soon you may be caught
Without it
The curfew´s set for eight
Will it ever all be straight
I doubt it.

Going down a dusty, Georgian side road
I wonder
The wind splashed in my face
can smell a trace
Of thunder.