Lyrics

When I go walking
Down glassy canyons,
Summer in the city
Is oppressive and gray.
Watching the people
Trudge from nowhere to nowhere,
Slaves of the concrete
On a hot summer day.

But then I see my 22nd street angel
Rise from her pedestal of stone.
Soaring high above the city
On a police siren tone.
(police radio talk)

Faces are raining.
Salt rivers flowing.
Quivering diamonds
Leave glistening traces.
No eyes are seeing.
No one is feeling.
They're lost in fields of faces
And other stoney places.

But never so my 22nd street angel
Above her pedestal of stone.
Soaring high across the city
On a police siren tone.
(police radio talk.)

But never so my 22nd street angel
Above her pedestal of stone.
Soaring high across the city
On a police siren tone.
(police radio talk.)