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Now, I don't disagree -- |
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It's a hell of a scene. |
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Jackson Square dropouts: |
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Avoid the police. |
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If the '80s were tough, |
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The '90s were mean. |
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All that was left for the desperate |
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Were these fax cash machines. |
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And that easy money |
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Never has anything. |
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With that kind of juice, man, |
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It ain't worth the squeeze. |
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But month by month, |
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I feel a change in the breeze, |
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So stop moving on; |
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Make your own history. |
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Now, if you want me to boil it down, |
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All you cynical bastards, |
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Get out of town. |
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Now, if you want me to boil it down, |
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All you cynical bastards, |
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Move a little faster. |
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But some people can't shake |
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The weight of the past. |
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Some people's hearts |
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Remain at half-mast. |
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It's downtown |
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Where it all intersects. |
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Some came from the mountain; |
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College kids from the west. |
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Not every suit lies |
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Right through the teeth, |
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As good and as bad |
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And as some between. |
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As I wait for the bus |
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Coming from the east, |
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The generations are proud |
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And your elbow grease. |
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I understand |
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If it's all a bit much. |
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It's a bit of a circus; |
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It's a little bit rough. |
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I heard this place |
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Was run by the mob, |
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Buying everyone off |
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Down at city hall. |
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And those Oakville moms, |
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They stick up their nose. |
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Those Burlington dads |
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Keep their dollars at home. |
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If you're the kind with nothing to say, |
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You heard about this party, |
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But you're praying for rain. |
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Move a little faster. |
