tip of the bomb


The radio plays for unsung days
Of sticky city streets
And the cool boys loose it
And the black boys blues it
But the night don’t beat the heat
And everyone’s stylin’
Cause everyone’s smilin’
Filin’ into a line
And if I didn’t know better
I’d be searchin’ for a sweater
But it’s just like Summertime

Radio on the front stoop
“Hey-la my boyfriend’s back”
And there’s a bag lady dancin’ in size 12 shoes
In the light from the laundromat
And the old man there with the tombstone hair
Drinks spodi-odi wine
And the barfly girl does a ballerina twirl
And it’s just like Summertime

And the soul sisters sway like chocolate Salomes
And the Puerto Rican boys are in a trance
And no one ever knows what kind of game she plays
But every radio knows all the girls just wanna dance

You gotta meet me on the corner
Where the daytime meets the night
I will be the one with the cigarette
You can be the one with the light
You can be the one I see
When I see a sight divine
Oh angel girl your sunshine curls
Are just like Summertime

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