City Sidewalks Songtext
von The Yankee Dollar

The fruit of my labor is a second-floor apartment
With a broken elevator and a view of concrete skies
The walls are made of paper and have lost and crippled morals
Good defenses make good neighbors and a home for wayward flies

I need fresh air, a country store somewhere
There I can be all I want to be
City sidewalks never go nowhere but anywhere
Away from here is all right for me


Rusted radiators are preparing for the winter
But the throbbing water pressure cannot hope to wash my mind
A million carburetors snarl at man-made canyons
Leaving hollow, burnt-out craters and incinerated skies

I need fresh air, a country store somewhere
There I can be all I want to be
City sidewalks never go nowhere but anywhere
Away from here is all right for me
I wanna be free

I need fresh air, a country store somewhere
There I can be all I want to be
City sidewalks never go nowhere but anywhere