John zeroed in the hole,
Stumbled to the street below,
Prayed silently, “God, keep me alive,”
Walked to the nearest corner, between Union and Figueroa,
“Just enough, Lord, to help me survive.”
A little bit will get me going,
A little more now and I’m gone,
And I love and hate this feeling,
And I can’t help if my baby’s dress is worn,
But you know she’s been working hard,
And you best believe, you best believe,
You know I’m keeping score.
Get up and get out,
Stay down, don’t let up,
Don’t look behind you and lower your eyes,
Duck your head,
Here comes the man.
John was just a boy when he played with little toys,
So wonderful to be alive,
He learned everything when he was young,
And pretty soon now, nursery school was done,
And those little boys were history,
He’d arrived.
Though his daddy used to beat him, it was surely for his own good,
And besides, it weren’t no different nowhere else in this neighbourhood,
Mama’s face was like tissue paper,
The way it broke up the tears it soaked up,
Crying for her baby boy,
Now John had found him bigger toys.
Get up and get out,
Stay down, don’t let up,
Don’t look behind you and lower your eyes,
Duck your head,
Here comes the man,
Floating and falling,
Slipping yet sinking,
Helplessly tumbling,
Upside down, inside out,
It never ends.
And like any good story in the armchair century,
Written in the victim’s blood and here for all of us to see,
A child is born into this world and soon thrown out on its own,
Some will know which way to turn, but most will never make it home.
Get in, don’t get out,
Stay down and give up,
Don’t look behind you and lower your gaze,
Duck your head,
Here comes the man,
Floating and falling,
Slipping yet sinking,
Hopelessly tumbling,
Upside down, inside out,
This is the end.
