true story as seen through the eyes of a little boy in the projects in the sixties |
A brick and concrete giant standing with his brothers they all look the same where growing up seems easy but a foolish game was played Two bathrooms five bedrooms and plenty of living space ends the race and gives youngsters time to dream of all the doors that spurt their treasures on Halloween from dusk to dawn The weather sometimes locks you in on thirteen levels one can play a little tag or hide and seek helps to melt the time away the winding staircase may be endless yet the motor car can take you to the sky with energy spent the day ends on Mercer Street To visit friends on level eight playing doctor seems so great injections draw no blood but leave a mark confusion bares a scar that last forever when you lay down to sleep this night the heat burns a feeling of strange beginnings Big brothers hiding secrets from us all the bloodstains on the shiny surface mark a spot where virgins fall sometimes in the dead of night the ugly monsters run the halls With time boys do learn to kiss and tell the tale experience the softly rigid skin that sometimes fails to sniff a bag of heights that quell and mask the hunger of an age that wails the steps to fast on Mercer Street Young men taken to a fight for freedom as others flight or try to bend the mighty hand mothers left with tears of sorrow when holidays are lonely and gone a wish a prayer a celebration of a journey done Cold water brings a chill on a hot muggy night wet children stilled when keepers arrive to cut the flow angry words that stir a change one summer day leaves a young one battered and bruised when lawless men ask no questions Burning spoons can make one happy but at ten years old you have your fun by other means the smooth black floor outside invites a game of tops today or maybe scrape you knee on painted bases when the score is not your way on Mercer Street Sirens break the silence of the night strangers shopping pay no money yet they take everything in plain sight footsteps running bring you down on glass that marks the skin forever Outside the bricks are flying a parade of terror running by a pointed fingers looks and wonders and you feel the heat the same today is not the day to stand Fires roar into the night when simple madness fills the heart morning brings an empty sight where kings and queens left castles bare of all things worthy of a ply Peacekeepers roll on squeaky wheels smoking cigarettes and lethal weapons there is thunder in the night when lightning hits the target you find streams of shattered glass in red on Mercer Street Rumbles here just come and go as cultures earn the right to grow when learning how to mark your space you mingle and you get to taste the many fibers twined with race You glory in the times that pass a cloud of dust conceals the blast so many years of good and bad of friendships won to friendships lost and innocence trapped in time the secrets die with one last breath the brick and concrete giants down at last on Mercer Street |