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Friday morning, early summer Momma's still laying deep dead asleep With the curtains drawn and her head underneath the blanket Crack the front door, up the stairwell Past the stink of the frying and the dying And I hit the roof of my transistor out and crank it Friday morning, seven-thirty New York City, grand and dirty Creeping out of the shadows like a whore Look around, somewhere near, in the ground I can hear there's a sound no one's ever noticed before Down there on the street, someone's playing salsa Someone's playing disco Someone's making something burn Someone plugged in a guitar and is shooting fireworks And I say, "Melinda, when's it gonna be my turn?" Oh Friday midnight, try to find me I'm the boy with his feet on the street Hunting down the sound with his ear, like an antenna Through the kitchens, past the bouncers Those cabrons with the shades and the blades Enjoying their latest shipment from Cartagena Songtexte Couples shouting, couples sweating All the while, the band is playing Old shit any wedding band can play No one knows, and no one cares But that kid by the stairs has a song inside him That'll blow you all away Down there on the street, someone's playing mambo Someone's playing bebop Like abuela's old LP And I can hear the sound of of the bombs exploding And I say, "Melinda, when they gonna notice me?" Out there on the street, someone's tagging subways Someone's jumping fences, someone's cursing at the moon Meanwhile, some clown gets a million dollar contract And I said, "Melinda, this story better change soon" Out there on the street, they've been shooting cop cars They've been torching high schools There ain't nothing that can grow All that I got is a crazy fortune teller And I said, "Melinda, tell me where I got to go" Aus Songtexte Mania