little red city on a hilltop
nothing looked so pretty but a doorstop
in between the gaze of an officer of malaise
tying you down man

little red city
glows u-top the wasteland buried in the sand
with little meaning and it's time to blow the leaves

our weather's changing
whether it's by you or it's by me
our little red city has had a cow, man

little red rock
u-top a mounttain top with gold inside your hills
and as the papers run our bills
we cry to you, somebody out there
it's time that you knew
of the injustice brought because of our manners, too
we cry and wait in vain all the same

little red rooster
calling my name when it's past the window pane
and another man bites the lame
violence upon the southern grain
inshrined with shameful days
with a voice that is calling for
a whole new same
a new which can't be called for pawning in their game
all the faces shall remain

in our little red city, little red town
not one frown we like to thank our Judas mass
welcomed it and it was a gas
now we lay in wake for hopes that one more day
will start to change

mixing colors that are opaque
a liquid drawing red like blood of the slain
overflows inside a little snow globe for two
that tell you what you ought to do

in this little red town, this little red city
all we ever wanted for equality for the many
but ended up like slaves
in another cyclic common day
the true essence of our name
was given away one fateful day

like a red rose bouquet
someday this little red town
will run it's colors to the new
and will sign off with blue
and the smearing on the page

a red heart upon a maze that's telling you to behave
a rose of thorns will break upon the maize
in my little red village
that is crumbling by the waves

red ocean ashore
upon a trumpet's howling sound
the red sea light bustling across the lost mill
where the men of old once stood their ground

red at night and black is tight
the colors come alive
unless you do what you have to
and make them reel in time