[Exclude: polished, clean, pop, hi-fi, auto-tune] [Vocal style: Frantic, breathless, gravelly, ragged] [Background: Constant analog tape hiss and room noise] [Intro] [Fast, repetitive driving bass riff. Distorted guitar stabs.] [Shout: "He's on the train! Go, go, go!"] [Verse 1] Popeye’s in the brown coat, breathin' in the cold — (watch it!) The junk is in the chassis, or so he’s been told — (ugh) A Lincoln Continental and a bridge full of haze We’ve been chasing Frog One for thirty-seven days — (move!) Under the L-train, the rubber starts to scream — yeah Driving like a madman in a nicotine dream — (huh) The shadow of the tracks falling rhythmic on the hood Doing all the things that a decent man should — (outta my way!) [Chorus] [Maximum energy, shouted] Catch the ghost on the tracks, alright! In the middle of a Brooklyn night! No brakes, no mercy, just the grit and the grime Running out of luck and we're running out of time Oh — don't let him slip away! Oh — nothin' left to say — (bang!) [Verse 2] The sniper’s on the roof and the crowd starts to run — (look out!) A bad day to be a hero under the sun — (no) Collateral damage on the concrete floor I’m kicking in the hinges of a heavy steel door — (open up!) [Bridge] [Guitar solo — high pitched, screeching, mimicking a train's brakes] [Ad-libs: "I'll get ya! I'll get ya! You're dead, Frog One! Dead!"] [Final Chorus] [Maximum energy, shouted] Catch the ghost on the tracks, alright! In the middle of a Brooklyn night! No brakes, no mercy, just the grit and the grime Running out of luck and we're running out of time Oh — don't let him slip away! Oh — nothin' left to say — (bang!) [Outro] [Fast drums stop suddenly. Only the bass continues for two bars.] [Spoken, heavy breathing: "I missed him... I shot the wrong guy."] [Hard Stop] [End]
