Manhattan no longer echos
With the voices of newsies so deep.
It’s time to go back to the lodging house, child,
So you can fucking sleep.
Tony is back from the races.
He had good luck: took a clean sweep.
He won a corona - Dont touch it, you ass,
You can smell it after your sleep.
Crutchie’s got in for the night now,
He’s smiling, but looks like might weap.
“Lay down your crutch: you ain’t walkin so good,
It’ll help if you fucking sleep.”
Al’s lips have start to tingle
With tantalizing thoughts of sheep,
Mush has flopped back onto his back,
And Blink’s snoring loud, ‘cause he’s asleep
Spot Conlon, fierce king and protector,
And his armies of birdies that cheep,
Have all bedded down where monsters abound:
In Brooklyn - yet they fucking sleep
Les and David are in their apartment,
The home they work to help keep.
Tomorrow they’ve got school and papes to hock
Look, they’re already both asleep!
Jack’s up on roof in his penthouse,
High over this stinkin’ heap.
He’s got dreams big as the New Mexico sky
That he’ll see if he can fucking sleep.
Even the kids carrying the banner -
Who found lodging house rent too steep,
They’ve found corners and doorways and allies
And they’re trying to fucking sleep
And now to you, dear fansie
For whom realization may start to creep.
Yeah, you’re right: this is a call out post.
Get the fuck off your phone and sleep!