The Harlem mammas they are laughing They call me punk rock think they're cute The pizza boys they keep on starin' I guess they finally made it off their stoop
I don't even know and I don't even care Oh yeah Since I've been hanging round Machines go up and down Spray paint gospel on the beat Another billboard reads Come to Miami Beach A man sells pretzels in the heat Riding on the subway
Saints and sinners sweepstakes winners Nine to five their smoking gun Jazzman Jimmy's busked a million Sometimes plays Duke Ellington for fun
I don't even know and I don't even care Oh yeah
I've been hanging round In the underground One day I saw you in your seat Past the transit cops A three-card monty box If I only had the guts to speak Riding on the subway
Mother told me yesterday The things that God would never say before We'll hang around the radio and listen to the status quo go on I'm all right until Sunday night when
I keep going down Took the local round A soul confession in my sleep Ain't no wishing well Underneath the El I still hope someday we might meet Riding on the subway
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Copy to Clipboard: The Harlem mammas they are laughing They call me punk rock think they're cute The pizza boys they keep on starin' I guess they finally made it off their stoop
I don't even know and I don't even care Oh yeah Since I've been hanging round Machines go up and down Spray paint gospel on the beat Another billboard reads Come to Miami Beach A man sells pretzels in the heat Riding on the subway
Saints and sinners sweepstakes winners Nine to five their smoking gun Jazzman Jimmy's busked a million Sometimes plays Duke Ellington for fun
I don't even know and I don't even care Oh yeah
I've been hanging round In the underground One day I saw you in your seat Past the transit cops A three-card monty box If I only had the guts to speak Riding on the subway
Mother told me yesterday The things that God would never say before We'll hang around the radio and listen to the status quo go on I'm all right until Sunday night when
I keep going down Took the local round A soul confession in my sleep Ain't no wishing well Underneath the El I still hope someday we might meet Riding on the subway
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