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...

A faint echo of the rain
Leaving the streets in pain,
Gradually calming calamity,
Lonely streets of sanctity.

Upon a rusted sewer grate
He lies, a broken waste.
Broken without sobriety,
Addicted to the melody.

The melody of the rain,
Elaborate, fervent dancing,
Mesmerizing bringer of rust.

A kaleidoscope of street lights,
Waylaid by the rain's knights.
Puddles of crystal clear sight,
Markers of an addict's delight.

The thumping of machinery,
A means to an end for humanity
Transport me to your city,
Bloated with delight and pity.

i promise you i will walk these streets like i own them
if i have to, i will even go walk on the moon like my name is carved on it
i will no longer sink my head, or dreams
my echo will fill the halls that made me feel the smallest
i will speak up, use my voice to break the walls
dive through the  hate and grow love
(grow, love)
grow flowers inside each broken soul
water them with assurance that eventually things work out
i will help look for the pieces missing of your heart
i will give you what's left of mine
grab my hand
let's walk these streets like we own them

Tales of what will happen next,
in the streets, in the heads,
in the cigarette buts, and in the red
flowers. Is better not to know
what we really are. Life's easier
when you don't know where
the sadder songs come from.

standing under
yellow flicker lights
reminds me of the day,
our hands slowly met,
barely held or touched
and laughter echoes
the entire street,
but yellow flicker lights,
of today only revealed
undisclosed desires,
for the past you

I heard your voice, and i heard home.

We speak the same language, a language no one else would understand.

Raised on the same streets, in different cities.

We just look at each other and smile.

In our chaotic world we've found peace.

Knowing we are home.