8 Gods Of Harlem - Rosanne Cash, Elvis Costello, Kris Kristofferson

Rain falls on the paramedics but they do not go inside

The street is where it all went down, the street is where he lies

The mother in her universe feels nothing but the pain

The son who was a baby but who will never be a man

So we pray to the God of Broken Class

We pray to the God of Gunfire and Regret

We pray to the God of Collateral Children

We pray to them all, the eight Gods of Harlem

Son was on his best behavior, shit was on his shoes

Blood was on the handlebars, nothing on the news

No one saw it coming, no one was to blame

Daddy’s got a broken heart, he’ll never be the same

So we pray to the God of Old Illusions

We pray to the God of Wasted Chances

We pray to the God of Dreams and Roses

We pray to them all, the eight Gods of Harlem

A girl falls down in hysterics

Is she laughing?

Is she crying?

Is she living?

Is he dying?

Undone

Who raise the glasses higher

Sulfur from the underground

Erosion, scalding steam

Her brother in a picture frame

And someone starts to scream

So we pray to the God of Washed Out Paper Broken Hearts

We pray to the God, the last chance is for rage and vengeance

We pray to the God, beat the drum slowly, neatly folded up and hidden Old Glory

We pray to them all, the eight Gods of Harlem