You know you're in Harrison
When you walk through the streets
Of the town with the small attention and big hopes
In the Olden Days, my town use to be a drinker's town
Where the farmers came to loosen up
And the suites loosened their ties from restrictions of the passing age

Harrison has factories, strong, brick work houses
That employed honest American citizens
Of the many products Harrison birthed
Such as plastics, boxes, Average Americans...
one stood out, nationally of course
Man-hole covers... for everyone
From Brooklyn to Pittsburgh to Atlanta
My town covered the stink of the ***** American veins
Underground

Now Harrison, who knows how, now...
With your inumerable Peruvians and Peruvian restaurants
And you hoodlums that darken the pages of your history
With your prevailing brick and prevailing  construction of new  and new and NEW
And your prevailing workers, who stay in Harrison just before the storm comes and leaves space for the dreamers
With your laughable two main streets
Dividing you into quadrants of living, sleeping, and stopping
With patriotism so deeply rooted, other cities should squint enviously
Yet also with ever-changing diversity, oh so ever-changing
WIth your kind and selfish and bored citizens that breathe your good American Air
With lovers, and elders, and walkers, and chatters, and lookers and lookers and lookers
And they all sigh...

Now do you see my town?
It's not a stop on the trail of a train
Yet  the break along the tracks that makes you say Hmmmm
Or even the place where you stop to have some water
Or just  rest and look and think either accidentally or purposely
In Harrison, you'll find the window of a high building
Through this window, strong cold light will touch you and awaken you
You will be forced to look outside
To look at the world that never stops turning and you will breath