Crime in the City (Sixty to Zero, Pt. 1)  - Neil Young

    Well, the cop made the showdown
    He was sure he was right
    He had all of the lowdown
    From the bank heist last night
    His best friend was the robber
    And his wife was a thief
    All the children were killers
    They couldn't get no relief
    The bungalow was surrounded
    When a voice loud and clear
    Said, Come on out with your hands up
    Or we'll blow you out of here.
    There was a face in the window
    The TV cameras rolled
    Then they cut to the announcer
    And the story was told.

    The artist looked at the producer
    The producer sat back
    He said, What we have got here
    Is a perfect track
    But we don't have a vocal
    And we don't have a song
    If we could get these things accomplished
    Nothin' else could go wrong.
    So he balanced the ashtray
    As he picked up the phone
    And said, Send me a songwriter
    Who's drifted far from home
    And make sure that he's hungry
    Make sure he's alone
    Send me a cheeseburger
    And a new Rolling Stone.

    There's still crime in the city,
    Said the cop on the beat,
    I don't know if I can stop it
    I feel like meat on the street
    They paint my car like a target
    I take my orders from fools
    Meanwhile some kid blows my head off
    Well, I play by their rules
    That's why I'm doin' it my way
    I took the law in my hands

    So here I am in the alleyway
    A wad of cash in my pants
    I get paid by a ten year old
    He says he looks up to me
    There's still crime in the city
    But it's good to be free.

    Now I come from a family
    That has a broken home
    Sometimes I talk to Daddy
    On the telephone
    When he says that he loves me
    I know that he does
    But I wish I could see him
    I wish I knew where he was
    But that's the way all my friends are
    Except maybe one or two
    Wish I could see him this weekend
    Wish I could walk in his shoes
    But now I'm doin' my own thing
    Sometimes I'm good, then I'm bad
    Although my home has been broken
    It's the best home I ever had

    Well, I keep gettin' younger
    My life's been funny that way
    Before I ever learned to talk
    I forgot what to say
    I sassed back to my mom
    I sassed back to my teacher
    I got thrown out of Bible school
    For sassin' back at the preacher
    Then I grew up to be a fireman
    Put out every fire in town
    Put out anything smokin'
    But when I put the hose down
    The judge sent me to prison
    He gave me life without parole
    Wish I never put the hose down
    Wish I never got old.


    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words