Oh.

We don’t have time to weep.

The world is a better place with love and steak.

Don’t mistake me for the dog, or the hog.

Either could be easily mistaken.

When your mother comes up from Florida

Tell her to bring the sunshine and palm trees.

Everyone here is stale, they are rigid.

Stones may not break your bones,

But evil eyes and last night’s mascara may kill.

Race me into the City night. I lost my left

Shoe, where the men kiss and the streets have no lines.

Take two steps back and kiss that dime.

Find time behind us, that we can’t keep.

Garbage scatters the minds of the night crawlers

While the street lights go to sleep.

Scratch your dry eyes with money.

We don’t have time to weep.