Teksty: Suzanne Vega. Ironboud/Fancy Poultry.
In the ironbound section near Avenue L
Where the Portuguese women come to see what you sell
The clouds so low, the morning so slow
As the wires cut through the sky
The beams and bridges cut the light on the ground
Into little triangles and the rails run 'round
Through the rust and the heat
The light and sweet coffee color of her skin
Bound up in wire and fate
Watching her walk him up to the gate
In front of the ironbound school yard
Kids will grow like weeds on a fence
She says they look for the light they try to make sense
They come up through the cracks like grass on the tracks
She touches him goodbye
Steps off the curb and into the street
The blood and feathers near her feet
Into the ironbound market
In the ironbound section near Avenue L
Where the Portuguese women come to see what you sell
The clouds so low, the morning so slow
As the wires cut through the sky
She stops at the stall fingers the ring
Opens her purse feels a longing
Away from the ironbound border
Fancy poultry parts sold here
Breasts and thighs and hearts
Backs are cheap and wings are nearly
Fancy poultry parts sold here
Breasts and thighs and hearts
Backs are cheap and wings are nearly free
Nearly free, nearly free, nearly free
Where the Portuguese women come to see what you sell
The clouds so low, the morning so slow
As the wires cut through the sky
The beams and bridges cut the light on the ground
Into little triangles and the rails run 'round
Through the rust and the heat
The light and sweet coffee color of her skin
Bound up in wire and fate
Watching her walk him up to the gate
In front of the ironbound school yard
Kids will grow like weeds on a fence
She says they look for the light they try to make sense
They come up through the cracks like grass on the tracks
She touches him goodbye
Steps off the curb and into the street
The blood and feathers near her feet
Into the ironbound market
In the ironbound section near Avenue L
Where the Portuguese women come to see what you sell
The clouds so low, the morning so slow
As the wires cut through the sky
She stops at the stall fingers the ring
Opens her purse feels a longing
Away from the ironbound border
Fancy poultry parts sold here
Breasts and thighs and hearts
Backs are cheap and wings are nearly
Fancy poultry parts sold here
Breasts and thighs and hearts
Backs are cheap and wings are nearly free
Nearly free, nearly free, nearly free
Vega, Suzanne
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