This lyric is: #320

LIVING ON THE FRINGES
by Lisa Parkins


A wild child behind each door
A million men for every whore.
Up three flights with a key that sticks
The feverish bettors
And the longshot romantics.
Garment center, immigrant Atlantis
Land of skaters, breakers, streetwise Kings.
Goodbye, to a city that died
And went to heaven.

There they go, living on the fringes
Everywhere, living on the fringes
There they go, living on the fringes.


Old Westside ladies in Dairy restaurants
Walking, talking, arm in arm.
The dancing babies housed in convents
The stay at home who pay no never mind.
Here we have the heartless
Here we have the helpless
Standing in the doorways
Freezing in the night.
Goodbye, to a city that died
And went to heaven.

There they go, living on the fringes
Everywhere, living on the fringes
There they go, living on the fringes.

The backseat bankers in their towncars
Ride unseen -- they keep their windows dark.
Downtown drunks on steaming August sidewalks
Souls in transit sleeping in the parks.
Mortified in asphalt
Petrified in cornerstones
The blood, the bones, a cardboard home.
Goodbye, to a city that died
And went to heaven.

There they go, living on the fringes
Everywhere, living on the fringes
There they go, living on the fringes.


Copyright 2002 by Lisa Parkins


http://www.MP3.com/LisaParkins

[This message has been edited by Lisa Parkins (edited 08-30-2002).]

[This message has been edited by blakeh (edited 09-02-2002).]