Mad City

[Ross]

by Ross Durand

Things have been pretty strange 'round here since Mr. Newman moved in next door
I thought it would be cool living next door to Alfred but he's not the one who wrote those scores
He's got a friend named Sergio who seems pretty marginal and always looks mad at me
If I didn't know any better I'd say I'm living in a satire but it all seems just as real as can be

I tried to ask my neighbor Alfred what he thought was goin' on it says, "In Blecch We Trust" on all my cash
And police came down the street collecting money for a campaign to get kids to just say "no" to Cracked
It must have been a stupid question 'cause he gave a snappy answer that left me just a little unsettled
So I asked him again and he looked me in the eye but it didn't seem on the level

He reads magazines with fold-outs 'bout pop culture and pollution
(Oh, wait, I got that wrong it's not a fold-out it's a fold-in)
All the flicks in town are spelled with number signs and punctuation
There's two spies in town who think it's black and white in every situation

Yeah, things have been a little strange 'round here since Mr. Newman moved in, that's right
He throws parties some times and his usual gang of idiots is coming over again tonight
I think the city's gone MAD and next Sunday morning I'll look at the real estate section in a hurry
But not Alfred...No, not Alfred...He's not worried
He's not worried

[Steve Durand]

Mad City
By Steve Durand

(Title theme music for a Cop/PI show titiled "Mad City")

In my line of work you see a lot of crazy things.

Knowing how people are, I guess that's to be expected.

But when you put so many of them together, sometimes, it seems like the
whole city's gone mad.

[boltoph]

In this mad city
the corner of my attention's always running away from me
but it's steamin' on the street and I'm sweating like a pig
get on the subway, just to feel the air conditioning
I think I'll ride away for the rest of the day

and how good it feels to get away
I really like the way you make me want to stay
I really like the way you fill me up and empty me right out

at the end of the day, passing out or rolling in the hay
as broke as a bum, I got one bottle and it's almost done
but the concrete pulls me in another direction
I just wish this mad city wouldn't put my head
down on the pavement, falling down on hot cement

and in my mind I said, "at least you're not dead"
I really like the way the curb holds my head
I really like the way it's making me stay
I really think that I'm gonna sleep here tonight
I really hope that in the morning I feel fine

in this mad city
everybody's got an objective made to complicate me
so I'll stay far away from the side of the street
but if I fall down, I might not be able to get up
I just hope this town doesn't walk all over me
I hope my eyes can still see

and in my mind I said, "I really like the way the curb holds my head"
I really think that I'm just gonna stay
I really think that I'm gonna crash on the sidewalk tonight
I really think that I'm just gonna sleep here tonight

woo hoo! <passes out>

[Stolar Skye]

I can’t shake the feeling
That everyone around me ’s gone insane
I can’t help the but stealing
Glances at grass greener along the way

I can’t stay here
In Mad City every move’s awash in neon lights
It’s not right, it’s not fair, but no one’ll ever see me
Staring up through the cloudy, smog filled sky
Mad City’ll keep us here til we die.

I can’t see straight
But my hearing’s sharp and clear
And the is filled with the sound
Of three million people struggling for breath

[chorus]

I can’t find my way out of here
I can’t find my way out

[chorus]

[j$]

Mad City by Johnny Cashpoint

(do you think he can hear us?)

I walk along deserted streets
Burnt-out buildings, upturned cars
skyline choked with acrid smoke
Rubble lines the roads like scars

CHORUS: Mad, Mad City, my death factory
Rabid City, my black industry
Always twilight in my city

Last commuter left alive
I ride on empty subway trains
All day ticket no escape
Always brings me back again
The fetid smell of time stood still
Not even ghosts in this foul town
The air dried out, the craters deep
Gasps of wind the only sound

CHORUS:

(do you think he can hear us?)

I walk around bizarro-town
Back to front and inside out
Food and drink for years to come
I'm not trapped there's no way out
I think I see a face today
His lips they move but I can't hear
He turns and takes the day away
I watch his white coat disappear

I've been here a hundred thousand empty years

(do you think he'll ever wake up, doctor?
He's been in a coma for seven years -
there's no reason to assume he will ever wake up again.)