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.