Pregnant teens on the Barton street bus Homeless people are living off crust And there’s a beat-up town car – it’s starting to rust Hard soles are kicking up dust Half a million people living in the corpse of the brown brick 50’s To the north, all the small town outcasts are now big city bourgeoisie
All the boys in the halfway houses Wave to the girls of Emerald Street
Our calloused fingers, blood red on the brick – but we hold on We’ll never falter, though they want us to slip – we hold on
The desperate, downtown stealing bikes Drunks in the village are picking fights
So, police line the streets to read them their rights No controlling hot summer nights The sun goes down on the edge of town, at the end of everyday We sit and watch the stacks, on fire, to the east across the bay
All the boys in the halfway houses Wave to the girls of Emerald Street
Our calloused fingers, blood red on the brick – but we hold on We’ll never falter, though they want us to slip – we hold on
There’s something in the church belfry At the corner of Victoria and king And it screams out into the night It sings this city’s plight
All the boys in the halfway houses Wave to the girls of Emerald Street
Hold on Hold on
Our calloused fingers, blood red on the brick – but we hold on We’ll never falter, though they want us to slip – we hold on