The Sixth Street Blues

The street sweepers sweep away At four in the morning and try to clean It will never change, it does no good Of yesterday's moral decay On the avenue of the hungry and mean The menu, drugs and no food The city bus stop benches are filled Junkies and winos sleep there Dreams of another fix or bottle of wine Another dead body, one more was killed The thief took all but his hair A dead end street filled with swine A hooker sleeps in the alley The crack house is open twenty four seven Business as usual, cops see nothing The road is a dead end valley The mindless, think that they are in Heaven Or what ever life will bring On this demon boulevard Where angels dare to fly And the losers have paid their dues Where times are always hard With no tears left to cry Their choir sings,"The Sixth Street Blues"