midnight in manhattan

the rush, the roar
the space, the time
the jolt, the fire...
half stolen lines.

the heat, the sweat
the buzz, the lights
the storms, the rain...
manhattan nights.

the draw, the pull
the lift, the weight
the steel, the awe...
night fire escapes

the drunks, the drugs
the poor, the dead
the dreams, the dust...
all that's left.

"...like a river that don't know where it's flowing"

it was drunk and i was dark
brainwashed and rainwashed
and stuck in the past
on a cracked east london street
beside myself and seeing double
stumbling on sodden feet
as a storm came crashing down
as a nightbus rushed right by
as a couple kissed against the wall
beneath the bridge ahead
a headache coming on
but each swig sweet relief
as tattered shoes smacked battered ground
swerving but unswerved
nervous but unnerved
just following the footsteps
of springsteen's hungry heart
and its fatalistic future
step by step by step
by step by...