Going down a dirty inner city side road    I plotted    Madness passed me by, she smiled hi    I nodded    Looked up as the sky began to cry    She shot it       Met a girl from Dearborn, early six o'clock this morn    A cold fact    Asked about her bag, suburbia's such a drag    Won't go back    Coz Papa don't allow no new ideas here    And now he sees the news, but the picture's not too clear, yeah       Well Mama, Papa, stop    Treasure what you got    Soon you may be caught    Without it    The curfew's set for eight    Will it ever all be straight    I doubt it       7 jealous fools playing by her rules    Can't believe her    He feels so in between, can't break the scene    It would grieve her    And that's the reason why he must cry    He'll never leave her    Alright       Oh now, crooked children, yellow chalk    Writing on the concrete walk    Their king died    Drinking from a Judas cup    Looking down but seeing up    Sweet red wine    Coz Papa won't allow no new ideas here    And now he hears the music    But the words don't sound too clear, yeah       Well Mama, Papa, stop    Treasure what you got    Soon you may be caught    Without it    The curfew's set for eight    Will it ever all be straight    I doubt it       Going down a dusty, Georgian side road    I wonder    The wind splashed in my face    Can smell a trace    Of thunder    Alright       Oh the wind splashed in my face    Can smell a trace    Of thunder       He feels so in between, can't break the scene    It would grieve her