Ooh we gotta leave
Ooh we gotta leave
To the empty lot
With the detritus and vagaries of history
Where the pizzo built its palace with stolen tapestries
Before the commies come divide
Into gray travesties
Ooh we gotta leave gotta leave
Ooh we gotta leave gotta leave
To the empty lot
With the hermit crabs, romantics, and the left behind
Where industry leaked its residure of mercury
Before the yuppies come and calle the new place
Factory

Because every description becomes a prescription
Every prescription becomes a restriction
Every restriction becomes a constriction
That twists that which it was until it contradicts

Ooh we gotta leave
Ooh we gotta leave
To the empty lot
Niles from the memories of Cafe Florent
Where the days became the nights and the nights the days
Where we drank coffee spiked with gin with the aging drag queens
Who whittled away the hours talking how the neighborhood's changed
I walked around the cemetery
Sifting through old plots
Brushing aside shrubs and tetanus beds
Filling in the spaces, and you thought I was crazy
"They're all dead," you said
But that's besides the point, you misread
The poets wax about what once was
While the dreamers dream of what will be
Neither one able to see
That the in-between is the only time with which we can ally

Because every description becomes a prescription
Every prescription becomes a restriction
Every restriction becomes a constriction
That twists that which it was until it contradicts

Ooh we gotta leave
Ooh we gotta leave