I met a kid in Brooklyn and he pointed at the skies
He had liquor on his breath and he had fire in his eyes
He staggered at me and stumbled and I helped him to his feet
I led him up the stairs and sat upon his balcony
He wielded up his glass and waved it around just like a sword
But one more sword of whiskey left me feeling pretty bored
He said, "I'd rather take dead aim than shoot my pistol in the air
I'd rather be a traitor than a man who doesn't care."
Oh oh oh
A man who doesn't care
Oh oh
I met a girl here in Ithaca
She took to me at once
I look just like her brother who had died when she was young
She whispered me her secrets and she whispered me her fear
And said so many things that I would never want to hear
She tried to draw me in just like a sickness in the soul
And said, "my little confidant together we must go
If they ask you for your papers, just respectfully decline
It's true I was born here but this country isn't mine."
Oh oh oh
This country isn't mine
Oh oh
So listen well son
To conversation
And always take from the words of the people that you meet
If you do this
Better witness
You might help a little still
And out in California
With an old dear friend
We drank expensive bourbon
And we tried to talk again
He looked out at his watch
And ran a hand across his head
Said, "I'm working in the morning
Man I've got to get to bed."
I nodded yes of course
And I was happy to oblige
And we both took one more sip
Before the gray light over skies
He said one thing I remember every evening in these hills
"The sun may set on friendship
But never on your bills."
Oh oh oh
Never on your bills
Oh oh
So listen well son
To conversation
And always take from the words of the people that you meet
If you do this
Better witness
You might help a little still