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