Ginger Elvis Presley looked a fraction sad
|
Roaming the whole town from bin to bin
|
Well living on the streets wasn't all that bad
|
Where no-one seemed to know that he was King
|
|
The sound of New York City
|
isn't police sirens wailing
|
It's the sound of Wall Street tills
|
whilst everyone else is failing
|
|
Sometimes you feel expensive
|
sometimes you feels so cheap
|
You can roam the streets a King
|
whilst everyone's asleep
|
You can mime to any record
|
with a hairbrush or a spoon
|
But God help the singer out of tune
|
|
A crippled Mohammad Ali
|
looked at bad luck in the mirror
|
Bad luck looked back at him and sighed
|
He looked a good foot smaller
|
and a couple of stone thinner
|
And if anyone came toward him
|
he would hide
|
|
The sound of North America
|
isn't Christians quietly praying
|
It's the sound of shuffling feet
|
that don't know where they're staying
|
|
Sometimes you feel expensive
|
sometimes you feels so cheap
|
You can roam the streets a King
|
whilst everyone's asleep
|
You can fight with anybody
|
with a glimmer of a chance
|
But God help the boxer with no hands
|
|
A homeless Greta Garbo
|
moves across the street
|
The moonlight shining clearly
|
through her skirt
|
A real life living legend
|
that no-one wants to meet
|
And that's when being Garbo
|
really hurts
|
|
The lyrics of "New York"
|
may have Frank Sinatra singing
|
But the rhythm and the melody
|
were dead black men swinging
|
|
Sometimes you feel expensive
|
sometimes you feels so cheap
|
You can roam the streets a Queen
|
whilst everyone's asleep
|
You can act with anybody
|
from the cradle to the crypt
|
But God help the actress
|
who doesn't know the script
|
|
-----------------
|
The Sound Of North America
|
| The Beautiful South |
