What is this town if, without care It builds for years on piles of air What is this town if, short of breath It chokes itself to selfish death
What is this town if, full of cats The place is packed with doggone rats No chance to sit, when parks we pass Leisurely on turd-free grass No chance to skip the traffic lights And cross the main roads without fright No chance to see, in shopping streets Glad non-consuming eyes to meet No chance to go just anywhere There's always streets up for repair No chance to find a place to stay Unless you pay all the goddamn way A poor town this if, filled with stone It leaves no place to call our own What is this town if, what a joke All of its pride goes up in smoke
What is this town if, full of cats The place is packed with doggone rats No chance to keep wide-open house The city's brains are like mad cows No chance to deal with businessmen Who sell the shit, the hits, the fan No chance to give this town a clue It turns into a concrete zoo
No chance to wait for things to change Unless buildings get hit by planes No chance to stop this money vulture From turning bullshit into culture A poor town this if, filled with stone It leaves no place to call our own What is this town if, to unsound It burns itself down to the ground
I'm sure there's grass that's greener, on the other side There's something green in my eye, this I won't deny We're told their grass is greener, and this is the other side This must be dr. Jekyll's teeth, isn't it, mayor Hyde.