Born on the Wrong Side of Town - The Stanfields

I fixed my eye on a golden pie

But I can’t take a bite

I spent my roll on a dream made up

Of pure insane delight

There’s an angel singing in my ear

But I’m immune to joy

Bells are ringing somewhere in the void

A cosmic stove has fried my bacon

And left me in a bind

Now eyes behind a death mask are looking for

Bones and teeth to grind

This puzzle I don’t understand

Was clearly made for me

Like a muzzle I’ve been forced to wear by a cold enemy

Who has rolled out a collection of excuses

For a lamb who don’t want to be found

No grand resurrection for a mule who is done

Born on the wrong side of town

No fancy words can spare you from

The pain of breaking vice

It’s no accident or no mistake

When someone tells you twice

Somewhere there’s a place within

A finely tuned machine

That goes round and round

With no stops in between

I hold my nose, count my nickels

And wish away the night

Inside four walls, a popcorn ceiling

That’s painted eggshell white

I’d take a ride if I had a whip

And the gasoline was free

But a moonlit drive with the top down singing

Won’t fix this for me

So no drawn out recollections from the highway

No sliver of truth to be found

No form of protection for a fool on the run

Born on the wrong side of town

So I sold my collection of fine things

Wallowed in cliché and noun

Like a throwback connection to a song over-sung

I was born on the wrong side of town

I was playing the game like a clown

I was born on the wrong side of town