Shakey Davey's got a twelve gauge in his hand 
It's sawed off to the limit 
He's got a vague plan 
There's this liquor store on 
Madison There's another one down on 
Washington square 
He's pretty sure no one's ever seen him 
Down around there 
The first one's birdshot the next four are double aught buck 
The last one's a slug just for good luck 
He's got his works in his pocket 
He wants to score as soon as he's done 
He can't wait to get straight to get long gone 
He puts on his long coat scribbles off a short note 
Sits himself down and waits for the sun to go down 
It's right around midnight and there's still too damn many people on this street 
He's walked all the way from 
Battery Park he's got sweaty hands and burnin' feet 
He's desperate for a fix 
His body's screamin' "Get me high" 
He bursts through the door and lets one fly 
Sunrise in the park and 
Davey's cold as stone 
He got some bad merchandise and he was all alone 
Two more unsolved mysteries a iot of paper pushed around 
Most folks are just wakin' up in this great big town