Up The River

Angry, muscled, “Lucky” smokin’
Greased back, cocky, struttin’
Switchblade renegades
Fought Brooklyn neighborhood pompadoured gang wars
Back in the fifties

Poor boys who couldn’t go home no more
Never had one to begin with, more the pity

Chains, zippers, big buckled “Garrison” belts
“Zip guns”, toothpicks, stuck gloves in epulets
Spun in violent circles embracing
Deaths dance in the “gutter”
Delinquent leather revolution
Gang war “rumble”

The gray bar hotel echoes,
Heard in dead end alleys on Desolation Row, with no way out
Bleak wet shine, slick street crime under fire escapes dripping in the rain
Warned that “crew”, dire consequences implied, a conscience contained

As they stood in a circle around a “manhole” cover
Ditchin’ a long murderous “shiv”
Through the small central hole in the middle
Down into the sewer filled with sludge
Under the streets of Brooklyn

“Get rid of it now”, or they’ll send you up the river
For some that was enough to straighten them up
Unfortunately for most a hollow threat at best
Lost boys in the city, no where to go
“Goin’ up da river”,
The only home they’d ever know