It's Friday night,
And it's almost ten,
So I've hit the ***** streets,
To meet with some friends.
I've left my car keys,
"Forgotten" my wallet,
And taken the Metro
To where Main Street begins.
I found them at "Deans,"
Up a floor and a half,
Smoking some Black Magic
In the elevator shaft.
My new best friend
Is about to perform,
But He's got stage fright,
As such is the norm,
On a Friday night,
On Main Street...
Before they start playing,
They take one last drink,
Then the music begins,
Before I can think.
When it's over, they're happy,
It was a nice crowd,
But now it's time to pack up,
And get the hell out.
So we left their guitars
In the bass player's car.
To go for a walk,
But we won't get too far,
Until we see shadows
And signs of life,
On a Friday night,
On Main Street...
They tilt from the corners,
And lean on the walls,
Their palms are held open,
Their gaze always falls.
They ask for a dollar,
Or something at all,
A smoke or a drink,
A simple phone call.
On Fridays like this,
I so often give thought,
To those unfortunate souls
Our "fair" city forgot,
In this land of the plenty,
They have nothing at all;
Just a lonely spot,
On Main Street...
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 8:58 PM UTC
It's Friday night,
And it's almost ten,
So I've hit the ***** streets,
To meet with some friends.
I've left my car keys,
"Forgotten" my wallet,
And taken the Metro
To where Main Street begins.
I found them at "Deans,"
Up a floor and a half,
Smoking some Black Magic
In the elevator shaft.
My new best friend
Is about to perform,
But He's got stage fright,
As such is the norm,
On a Friday night,
On Main Street...
Before they start playing,
They take one last drink,
Then the music begins,
Before I can think.
When it's over, they're happy,
It was a nice crowd,
But now it's time to pack up,
And get the hell out.
So we left their guitars
In the bass player's car.
To go for a walk,
But we won't get too far,
Until we see shadows
And signs of life,
On a Friday night,
On Main Street...
They tilt from the corners,
And lean on the walls,
Their palms are held open,
Their gaze always falls.
They ask for a dollar,
Or something at all,
A smoke or a drink,
A simple phone call.
On Fridays like this,
I so often give thought,
To those unfortunate souls
Our "fair" city forgot,
In this land of the plenty,
They have nothing at all;
Just a lonely spot,
On Main Street...
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