Pregnant teens on the Barton street bus
Hard-up people living off [bad word] And there’s a beat-up town car - it’s starting [bad word] Hard soles are kicking up dust
Half a million people living in the corpse of the brown brick 50’s
To the north, all the small town outcasts are now big city bourgeoisie

All the boys in the halfway houses
Wave to the girls of Emerald Street

Our calloused fingers, blood red on the brick - but we hold on
We’ll never falter, though they want us to slip - we hold on

The desperate, downtown stealing bikes [bad word] in the village are picking fights

So, police like the streets to read them their rights
No controlling hot summer nights
The sun goes down on the edge of town, at the end of everyday
We sit and watch the stacks, on fire, to the east across the bay

All the boys in the halfway houses
Wave to the girls of Emerald Street

Our calloused fingers, blood red on the brick - but we hold on
We’ll never falter, though they want us to slip - we hold on

There’s something in the church belfry
On the corner of Victoria and king
And it screams out into the night
It sings this city’s plight

All the boys in the halfway houses
Wave to the girls of Emerald Street

Our calloused fingers, blood red on the brick - but we hold on
We’ll never falter, though they want us to slip - we hold on