Of passion, love, and bravery
A brown bag lunch, and a mug of tea,
Through gates of horn and ivory,
We’re dreaming in Hell’s Kitchen.
Pugnacious politicians in their armor-plated suits
Propitiate the wealthy while they fiddles with their flutes
They're crusaders, Alexanders, they're Napoleons to boot
They're seeking fresh objectives on the borders of the Kitchen
So there’s this one and there’s that one,
Gracie Mansion & the ‘Street,
Denouncing some poor devil who has nothing left to eat,
And he’s not allowed to sleep here so he’d best stay on his feet
For we care so much about him that we’ll kick him from the Kitchen.
We care so much about him that we’ll kick him from the Kitchen.
There’s many on the breadline who never tried to fight
And many that have earned their bread
By working day and night
And with all their sweat and labor was a chance that saw them right
While a hazard of the dice left the others by the kitchen?
He stinks and he’s a drunkard, that bum we just passed by
And I think but for the grace of God, likewise there go I
And the buck inside his cup is less compassion or a sigh
Than libation for a dream when I’m dreaming in Hell’s Kitchen.
Libation for a dream when I’m dreaming in Hell’s Kitchen.
Lyrics taken from http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/t/the_prodigals/dreaming_in_hells_kitchen.html