[Intro] [Sound of subway train screeching] [Feedback squeal, raw distorted guitar riff starts, loose hi-hat tapping] [Shout: "Can you dig it?! One, two!"] [Verse 1] Midnight in the Bronx, the meeting’s gone south — yeah Cyrus is down with a word in his mouth, huh The Gramercy Riffs are howling for blood We’re sinking our boots in the Riverside mud — no! Got the Rogues on our tail and the night is a cage, yeah Every borough is screaming with a terminal rage, huh Just nine of us left with our vests and our pride Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide — aw! [Pre-Chorus] And the DJ is spinning a record so cold — oh yeah A warning for the young and a hit for the old, huh "To the boys from the city, better watch your back" The shadows are moving on the subway track — aw! [Chorus] We’re Coney Island bound, yeah! Running through the underground, huh Past the Furies and the Lizzies in the neon rain Trying to forget all the city’s pain Oh — we’re going home, yeah Oh — we’re all alone, huh huh [Verse 2] The Baseball Furies with the painted-on face — yeah huh Chasing us down through the park and the space, aw Swan’s got the lead and Snow’s got the grit The whole damn city is starting to split — whoa The trains are all stalled and the stations are dark, yeah Looking for a spark in the middle of Central Park, huh One more stop and we’ll see the sand The kings of the concrete, the lords of the land — aw yeah! [Bridge] [Guitar solo — loose, bending notes, "Johnny Thunders" style, messy and loud] Yeah! — Run! — Get to the platform! It’s a long way back to the boardwalk lights — huh After all of the sweat and the alleyway fights, yeah But I’d rather be a Warrior in the ocean breeze Than a king in a suit on his bended knees — aw! [Verse 3 — half time feel, spoken/sung] Luther’s clinking the bottles in the back of the car — yeah "Come out to play!" — you’ve gone too far, huh The sun’s coming up on a broken shore We ain't gonna take it, not anymore — oh! [Final Chorus — ragged, emotional, big energy] We’re Coney Island bound, yeah! Running through the underground, huh! Past the Furies and the Lizzies in the neon rain Trying to forget all the city’s pain Choose the street — or choose the grave — huh! Choose to be free or choose to be a slave Oh — we’re going home Oh — we’re going home — aw yeah! [Outro] [Guitar winds down into a messy fuzz, single drum hits] Yeah... we made it... The beach looks grey... Can you dig it? Huh... [Amp hum fades out with a distant subway sound] [End]
