Pinky Sonata
In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway Jewish dream
At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines
Sprung from cages out on highway 9,
Chrome wheeled, fuel injected and steppin out over the line
Baby this town rips the bones from your back
Its a death trap, it's a suicide rap
We gotta get out while were young
`cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run
And not to sit around
Because when we run we born fat
poem by Aldo Kraas
Added by Poetry Lover
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