| Same stop, different seat
 | 
| Wait, watch, and then repeat
 | 
| Days, doctor, you believe
 | 
| In the face of The Fathers that have made it holy
 | 
| Hey, doctor is it me?
 | 
| Or are they flocking to the sheep?
 | 
| Great Scott, are we asleep?
 | 
| Cause it seems like I got a mouth full of no teeth
 | 
| Jimmy placed his nickels in the token booth
 | 
| And his everything bagel in his open soup
 | 
| Checking out his numbers in the postal proof
 | 
| He only missed by one, so he’s 0-for-2
 | 
| Heading to the late shift grave in bull
 | 
| Whistling the break from Paid in Full
 | 
| On the train, stepped, when he made his move
 | 
| And grew a J-O-B in basic blue
 | 
| Tried to keep the rust from touching faith
 | 
| Coulda got somewhere, but he runs in place
 | 
| Now, he’s back on the wagon for a month, one day
 | 
| And an hour, into lunch, until he’s tucked away
 | 
| Up at dawn, he had a smoke, fed his cat
 | 
| His half of toast, made a face
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| And grabbed a roach. | 
| Took a pill
 | 
| That made him laugh, so he could last 'til close
 | 
| Used to burn buildings, now his pieces go
 | 
| From the bottom of a bic to receipts in rolls
 | 
| No cans, no crews, no more beef bestowed
 | 
| Waitin' on a D for, at least, ten toes
 | 
| She sat across chewing Juicy Fruit
 | 
| Ear-ringed lobes that were loosely hooped
 | 
| Shearling coat, with a toothy mood
 | 
| The raven-black matched her Gucci suit
 | 
| He hustled in with his patient plan
 | 
| Doorway down, with a lazy stance
 | 
| Ignore the cops and the shaking can
 | 
| A quarter’s not going to change your pants
 | 
| He caught her eye, so she moved her ring
 | 
| Smiled a bit, like «this bird can sing»
 | 
| And took a cue, and he cut the length
 | 
| «Do you like trains? | 
| Cause I love these things.»
 | 
| «Excuse me, um, but I wonder if you’d tell me where you get your hair done?»
 | 
| «What?»
 | 
| «Your hair is perfect, I’d like to know where you get it done.»
 | 
| «It's uh, it’s beautiful and it’s perfect for the job.»
 | 
| «Perfect for what job?»
 | 
| «A second ago, this groovy chick was just a girl in his dreams.»
 | 
| Anyway, they hit it off and trusted fate
 | 
| And they transferred over to the Uptown 8
 | 
| Headed to her place, that she said was brightened
 | 
| By the trees on the corner, and a block from Dyckman
 | 
| Knew the place well from his days with paint, but
 | 
| Figured it was chill, and them crews had changed-up
 | 
| Just like him, had jobs they hated
 | 
| And were no longer on-point, and stayed mostly faded
 | 
| Oh, she rated. | 
| Tens, he scored her
 | 
| And wouldn’t really care if he caught one for her
 | 
| All his thoughts were the dame he picked-up
 | 
| Game was Atari, and the way she Dig-Dugged!
 | 
| Doors were open, time to exit
 | 
| A dude stepped to him with a diamond necklace
 | 
| Read his checklist, knew maneuvers
 | 
| And hit him with a two-piece tooth-remover
 | 
| Thing was laughing, he lay there bleeding
 | 
| And his ground control was not receiving
 | 
| As she was leaving, he lost his mind
 | 
| And gave her one big push for all mankind
 | 
| «Push that girl in front of the train.» |