Dreaming In Hell`s Kitchen — текст песни (The Prodigals)

(chorus:)
Of passion, love, and bravery
A brown bag lunch, and a mug of tea,
Through gates of horn and ivory,
We`re dreaming in Hell`s Kitchen.

A pugnacious politician in his armor-plated suit
Propitiates the wealthy while he fiddles with his flute
He`s crusader, Alexander, and Napolean to boot
He`s seeking fresh objectives on the borders of the Kitchen
So there`s this one and there`s that one,
Gracie Mansion & the �Street,
Denouncing some poor devil who has nothing left to eat,
And he`s not allowed to sleep here so he`d best stay on his feet
For we care so much about him that we`ll kick him from the Kitchen.

There`s many on the breadline who never tried to fight
And there`s many that have earned their bread
by working day and night
But with all their sweat and labor was there chance that saw them right
While a hazard of the dice left the others by the kitchen?
He stinks and he`s a drunkard, that bum we just passed by
And I think but for the grace of God that likewise there go I
And the buck inside his cup is less compassion for a sigh
Than libation when I`m dreaming in Hell`s Kitchen.