This is the 3rd of June, 1988
highly unimportant day
Some airplane gliding into one of the bigger clouds over Manhattan
In a downtown far away, Mr. Toomy, our face in a crowd
The city was slow and tired
The Wall Street boys wearing their ties around their neck
Like boxer's towels after a fight
Mr. Toomy stopped his pinstripe suit outside a barber shop
Looked at his face, took off his jacket and stepped on it

Who's that, what's that, what do you mean
I'll never know where I lost my dream
Who's that, what's that, gimme your name
3rd of June, end of game

No looking to the right
No looking to the left
Lenny is a target and always on track
Lenny is a target and nobody shoots
Lenny is a target lost the route [bad word] of a child's old fantasy [bad word] of a child the end of heat
Lenny is a target and nobody shoots
Lenny is a target lost the route

Who's that, what's that, what do you mean
I'll never know when I lost my dream
Who's that, what's that, gimme your name
3rd of June, end of game

Mr. Toomy stopped his pinstripe suit outside a barber shop
Looked at his face
Took off his jacket
Put it on the pavement
Stepped on it
And started preaching like a monk from another world
After some minutes, he had a little crowd
Which dissappeared when a police car passed by slowly
Like rolling gloom
And Mr. Toomy throws his voice 'til he was the only one in the area
At this early night of June 3rd, 1988

Who's that, what's that, what do you mean
I'll never know when I lost my dream
Who's that, what's that, gimme your name
3rd of June, end of game