Aw... it was nothing. It didn't matter to me.
Ah, there were tanks all over my street.
There was one outside the windows
and children in the streets were throwing rocks at the tanks.
Ain't got a passport.
Ain't got my real name.
Ain't got a chance, sport, at fortune and fame.
And I walk these endless streets, won't you give me a lift.
A lift. A lift. On your citizen ship.
They were rioting in Chicago, movement in L.A.
Sixty-eight it broke up the yardbirds.
We were broke as well.
Took it underground, empty borderline, up against the wall.
The wall. The wall.
Show your papers, boy.
Citizen ship we got mem'ries.
Stateless, they got shame.
Cast adrift from the citizen ship,
lifeline denied, exiled this castaway.
Blind alley in New York City, in a foreign embrace.
