This evening the pigeons turned to bars of gold
In the sun’s last light
And across the river, Camden is a guilded kingdom
on the verge of night
And so poised here at the edge of the city
I’m getting high on the sound
Of the buzz of 95
And the scent of something going down.
CHORUS:
East, baby, where the South Street floats into the sky.
Tonight east is all I need to finally start to feel defined.
And so a man standin’ out over the highway
As an autumn twilight chills his skin
At last has come to terms that where he’s from
is more then where he’s been
Now the traffic in the flashing shadows of the final glow
Are just a rush of burning chariots driven by the ancient lure of home
And with my hands tucked deep down in my pockets
I see my own breath in the light
Of the east that holds and soothes me
As I spin west into Friday night.
*CHORUS*
