The light is red
The rain is soft
The pavement shines
Above the tram
Neon lights
Flicker out
The garbagemen pick up their cans
And trust their worried whispers to the wind
She picks them up
With gentle hands
And sets them free
I'd long to follow suit
Over the grey slate roofs
Up through the darkening clouds
Right out of this town
And come down real slow
At the bend of the river
Where the cottonwoods grow
The light turns green
The cars pull up
A baby cries
Up in the trees
The parakeets
Screech loud and bright
The garbagemen jump on again and ride the truck
Like it's an ocean wave
Of endless blue
A stretched out hand
To ease the way
I'd like to follow suit
Over the grey slate roofs
Up through the darkening clouds
Right out of this town
And come down real slow
At the bend of the river
Where the cottonwoods grow
Yeh come down real slow
At the bend of the river
Where the cottonwoods grow