Tin Pan Alley

Tin Pan Alley

I'll take you there sometime
the plane will softly go down
and the city like a musical supermarket
will awake six sleeping strings

In taxi as yellow as the China Town
we'll head off supressing fire of hearts
to music, which doesn't know the truth and the lies
But exists, still exists

Not all the great stopped playing
Although wind brought weather for the reach
Evil black pianos won't go to sleep
Old blues lives within them

Good days in stores on Tin Pan Alley
Street musicians once again get paid
Speakers rumbling through open doors
Faster beats their pulse

Not all the great stopped playing
Although wind brought weather for the reach
Evil black pianos won't go to sleep
Old blues lives within them

In shop-windowns notes from the 50`
Covers of slightly worn records
Music always loved by world
Familiar signboard of good businesses

What you'll take out of it is your business
Taxi will return with squeal of tyres
Again the airport, flight 55
Once again you're looking down

Not all the great stopped playing
Although wind brought weather for the reach
Evil black pianos won't go to sleep
Old blues lives within them