I was sitting on my fire escape and I saw...sturdy bridges,
decorated with dirty pigeonsa vagabond begging for three pennies
and a princessa junkie tourniquet surgeon urging the needle ina
batty senior citizen flashing that awful teethless grinI saw a
corner store merchant rest on a milk crate with a stog'a
pierced nose, a model with a stalker, cheap hooker, jay walkersa
table on a sidewalk with four old men slappin' dominos downa
city, a village, a neighborhood, a ghost townI saw vandals
catching tags and Puerto Rican flagsI saw a pregnant woman on
the verge of bursting (boom)I saw a blind man with a dog
screaming 'someday I'll see it all'and then he
sat down with his hammer and sawbusiness men with multi-colored
ties, cashmere checksa nazi with tattoos on his neck, a Vietnam
war veta Caucasian man with a limp and a cane, a pimp with his
namesa thug circus, a pack of shook tourists hugging their
pursesI saw freaks with rainbow streaks in dayglo haira mother
smackin' the grin off her child, replaced it with a starea
pothole, a storefront with a broken open signa hole in the wall
bar kicking drunks to the gutter, it's closing timeI see a
f**k up, a bum knuckle up with a taxi drivera squatter, a
grandfather, an angry right-to-liferI can see the roof garden on
the apartment across the streetand kick myself because somewhere
along the way I lost my seedsI see a rat, a roach, a bat
approach, a happy studenta black man with a horn and a will to
make you sit and listen to itI see a little girl on the corner
with bubbles, braids and barrettesI see a teen mother with
similak pacifier and regretsoh, a day turned stale, a hammer
with a rusty nail, a failed marriagea universe of brick
buildings slightly off balancea challenge, I see a chance to add
real colors to my favorite paletteraise my mighty mallet towards
the gods and swing my talonsI see a crack in the sidewalka slide
show of six civilians gripping bottles of gideonsitting inside
bent meridianthere's a fun house ooh, a sun spoutspraying
yellow beams above yellow back dreamsand children in the
hydrantstyrants(?), I see sirensthe wall to the glamor standarda
dead bird, a bent curba bus stop of commuters waiting to have
their souls towed off to workI seen the slap dash habits of bike
messengers pawsand hug that good leaf on the way to damaged
packages, dependenceoh my lord, I see bandwagons, all aboarda
carnival amusement park where a heart is a luxuryI see a gas
galaxy huddled behind those pearly doorsmaybe I should sit up on
my fire escape a little more