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  • Riviera Street Corner
    Mat_j
    14 May 2004

    "This man in the fedora smiled,
    For the first time in a year,
    What more could you want,
    Just for standing here?"

    The people clapped and Billy bowed,
    As he tuned his old guitar,
    The old man jumped up and said,
    "This boy will end up going far!"

    After talking some words of freedom,
    And giving a tap of his feet,
    He played a song to warm the hearts,
    From the corner of Riviera Street.

    Old father Black brushed hair from his eyes,
    Raised his hands and took a breath,
    Then bellowed forth a surmon,
    'Bout how we're condemned to death.

    The folks who stopped to listen,
    Didn't stay there very long,
    Father B. just carried on,
    Crying out his holy song.

    At ten to three the old priest,
    Shakily found himself a seat,
    he was getting to old to preach,
    On the corner of Riviera Street.

    In the afternoon the suits came,
    From the cleaner side of town,
    Talked about the area,
    Pondered knocking it down.

    The afternoon turned to evening,
    And one man stayed to drink,
    Perhaps this place was better than
    What other people make you think."

    At two AM in the morning,
    A policeman on the beat,
    Found his body in the gutter,
    On the corner of Riviera Street.

    All the children looked so eager,
    At the white outline next morning,
    Each one like Sherlock Holmes,
    thought they had found their calling.

    Guitar Billy payed his respects,
    With the guidance of father Black,
    Then entered the Riviera bar,
    And drank so he wouldn't come back.

    The sad man in the fedora,
    Sat chuckling so discrete,
    He put a hammer through the head,
    Of the suit on Riviera Street.

    (Taken from Riviera Street Corner)