LOST IN THE FLOOD was recorded during the Greetings From Asbury Park, N.J. Were they lost, oh, tell me, tell me, man I wonder what they were gettin' into, or were they all just lost in the flood? Well, hey man, did you see that, lord, those poor cats are sure messed up I wonder what the dude was sayin', or was he just lost in the flood? He lays on the street holding his leg screaming something in SpanishĪnd somebody said, "Hey man, did you see that? His body hit the street with such a beautiful thud"
Oh, and some kid comes blastin' round the corner, but a cop puts him right away Whoa, that cat from the Bronx starts lettin' loose, but he gets blown right off his feet Some storefront incarnation of Maria, she's puttin' on me the stareĪnd Bronx's best apostle stands with his hand on his own hardwareĮverything stops, you hear five quick shots, the cops come up for airĪnd now the whiz-bang gang from uptown, they're shootin' up the street I wonder what he was thinking when he hit that stormĮighth Avenue sailors in satin shirts whisper in the air Just junk all across the horizon, a real highwayman's farewellĪnd I said, "Hey kid, you think that's oil? Man, that ain't oil, that's blood" That is, nothin' left that you could sell He rides headfirst into a hurricane and disappears into a pointĪnd there's nothin' left but some blood where the body fell Well that blaze and noise boy, he's gunnin' that bitch loaded to blastin' point He leans on the hood telling racin' stories, the kids call him Jimmy The Saint He rides her low on the hip, on the side he's got Bound For Glory in red, white and blue flash paint Races Sundays in Jersey in a Chevy stock super eight That pure American brother, dull-eyed and empty-faced Have you thrown your senses to the war or did you lose them in the flood?" Sticker smiles sweet as gunner breathes deep, his ankles caked in mudĪnd I said, "Hey, gunner man, that's quicksand, that's quicksand that ain't mud Nuns run bald through Vatican halls pregnant, pleadin' immaculate conceptionĪnd everybody's wrecked on Main Street from drinking unholy blood They're breakin' beams and crosses with a spastic's reelin' perfection They hit and run, plead sanctuary, 'neath the holy stone they hide This countryside's burnin' with wolfmen fairies dressed in drag for homicide "He must be from the fort," he hears the high school girls say The ragamuffin gunner is returnin' home like a hungry runaway
0 kommentar(er)
