In the city there is something to see
In the city there is nothing to breathe
I'm going about my business
I'm wondering what I'm missing
And on my way home, I hid in my coat
I wrote my name on the city wall
Being famous
In the city there is a park bench you can sleep out on
The city there is a trash can you can eat out of
I'm going about my business
I'm wondering what I'm missing
And on my way home a cop said «No!»
I said, «There is a man with a stick and a gun in his hand»
Being famous
Red man in the city
Poor man in the city
Black man in the city
Fat man in the city
Red man, black man
Fat man, blue man
I don't know the rest of the words
'Cause I made it up just for you, oh…
Just for you