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    The rangers had a homecoming in Harlem late last night
    And the Magic Rat drove his sleek machine over the Jersey state line
    Barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a Dodge
    Drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain
    The Rat pulls into town rolls up his pants
    Together they take a stab at romance and disappear down Flamingo Lane

    Well the Maximum Lawman run down Flamingo chasing the Rat and the barefoot
    And the kids round here look just like shadows always quiet, holding hands
    From the churches to the jails tonight all is silence in the world
    As we take our stand down in Jungleland

    The midnight gang's assembled and picked a rendezvous for the night
    They'll meet `neath that giant Exxon sign that brings this fair city light
    Man there's an opera out on the Turnpike
    There's a ballet being fought out in the alley
    Until the local cops, Cherry Tops, rips this holy night
    The street's alive as secret debts are paid
    Contacts made, they vanished unseen
    Kids flash guitars just like switch-blades hustling for the record machine
    The hungry and the hunted explode into rock'n'roll bands
    That face off against each other out in the street down in Jungleland

    In the parking lot the visionaries dress in the latest rage
    Inside the backstreet girls are dancing to the records that the D.J. plays
    Lonely-hearted lovers struggle in dark corners
    Desperate as the night moves on, just a look and a whisper, and they're gone

    Beneath the city two hearts beat
    Soul engines running through a night so tender in a bedroom locked
    In whispers of soft refusal and then surrender in the tunnels uptown
    The Rat's own dream guns him down as shots echo down them hallways in the
    No one watches when the ambulance pulls away
    Or as the girl shuts out the bedroom light

    Outside the street's on fire in a real death waltz
    Between flesh and what's fantasy and the poets down here
    Don't write nothing at all, they just stand back and let it all be
    And in the quick of the night they reach for their moment
    And try to make an honest stand but they wind up wounded, not even dead
    Tonight in Jungleland

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