Drunk parakeets on telegraph hill
Choir on the wire above the Coup de Ville
The old engine idles at the gates of the park
There’s blood in the sky from the shots in the dark
The bricks, the bridges, the underground trains
I’m going back to Kings County and there’ll I’ll remain
When I die and my soul takes wings, bury my body in the country of Kings
The East River crossings, sun through the steel
Stuck in a move, bright but unreal
Juliet watches her brothers, she don’t know her dad
Her mother sends money back to Trinidad
She says, “Oh, Romeo, you silly boy.
Life ain’t a game. I ain’t a toy.”
I was young and full of fire when I left home
No direction, just desire, to wander and roam
I returned, humbled, limp in my walk
Chill in my look, tremolo in my talk
The bricks, the bridges, the underground trains
I’m going back to Kings County and there’ll I’ll remain
When I die and my soul takes wings, bury my body in the country of Kings