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lirik lagu st. pete station – the cradle

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i get out of the bus in st. pete
with my pack and a b*ball magezine
it doesn’t look like such a rough street
so i look around for a good place to read

there’s an empty white church on the next block
right across from the bus parking lot
i thought that maybe i’d go to sit down
on some benches behind it that were catching the light

a man in a wheelchair came up on my right
told me his name was fishman mike
“have you got a buck for a joke?” he asked
“why’d she break her dad’s watch? she wanted to seem time die”

he wheeled over to a store across the street
and bought us a four pack of 16s
he wheeled back across martin luther king
and over to a good place to drink

he told me that he’d just got out the can
ended up there for helping out a friend
he’d wheeled over to a man with his face down in the street
cops pulled up to check out the scene

“and here’s just the kind of luck i get
i’d rolled over a k2 cigarette
probably what had just put my friend on the ground
cop picked up the joint, said ‘we’re taking you down'”
“judge kept her pity tied up tight
two months for a f*cking bag of spice”
“i thought you said it was just a joint?”
“oh yeah, you’re right”
“no matter, please go on mike”

“i didn’t waste my time up in the can”
he said as he rummaged in his bag
and, producing a hand*drawn diagram
he said, “listen up kid, ’cause here is the plan

“you put a hotel and bar onto a boat
just push it out and let the b*st*rd float
you fish off the front and drink in the back
what can’t you buy a kid online? her first fish”

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