How’d we get where we are today?
A lifetime and a world away.
Suddenly I realized
We’re the kids in the sculpture.
Fresh graffiti by our side,
Exhilarated and terrified.
Between broken and scraping by,
We’re the kids in the sculpture.

Twisting yellow center-line
On the asphalt serpentine.
Counterfeit venders shout,
Iron morning stepping out.
Cartoon diesel on display.
Tempera ghetto blasters play.
Elevated foam and wire.
Here cause you’re a lousy liar.
One more submission of your art
Rejected like a transplant heart.
Day-glo steaming manhole sighs:
New York in a child’s eyes.

How’d we get where are today?
A lifetime and a world away.
Suddenly I realized
We’re the kids in the sculpture.
Fresh graffiti by our side,
Exhilarated and terrified.
Between broken and scraping by,
We’re the kids in the sculpture.

Steel grate rumbles,
Stockbrokers stumbles:
Looking up Broadway
Crossing Canal.
Colors smell better
When you’re in person!
Welcome to your
Brand new locale!

Famished and your body’s tired,
Senses sharp n’ nerves are wired.
Hollow cheeks: the price you pay
For something that you gotta say.
Compulsion you know can’t be cured
But, when the hell will you be heard?
Is it crisis or a thrill?
Can do but we can’t will our will.

How’d we get where are today?
A lifetime and a world away.
Suddenly I realized
We’re the kids in the sculpture.
Fresh graffiti by our side,
Exhilarated and terrified.
Between broken and scraping by,
We’re the kids in the sculpture.

City gets busy,
Husltin’ ‘n dizzy:
Can’t afford what’s on the billboard.
Styrofoam jetsam
Drifts through sewers.
Keeping afloat:
Your only reward.

Red Grooms scenery:
Our morning route.
Acrylic tones
Are screaming out:
Fin’lly hear the workmen shout.
Find out what it’s—
“...”

Gettin’ lost and it feels all right.
In the bastard of a monk streetlight.
Hear the stalls of Chinatown.
We’re the kids in the sculpture.
How’d we get where are today?
A lifetime and a world away.
Suddenly I realized
We’re the kids in the sculpture.

Sidewalk gum in a drizzling rain.
Brakes are screeching on the R train.
Today the gallery came to life.
We’re the kids in the sculpture.
Fresh graffiti by our side,
Exhilarated and terrified.
Between broken and scraping by,
We’re the kids in the sculpture.

Grace Church ‘neath a hazy sky.
M-5 goes rolling by.
The world rushing through a fantasy:
We’re the kids in the sculpture.
City view from a fire escape:
Daydream blessed form and shape.
Dizzy but I don’t wanna go.
We’re the kids in the sculpture!