Born long ago to a girl from Boston Conceived in an alley filled with stars In a room above a doorway To a liquor store was he When she left he did not know why He blamed himself as kids always do Met some friends out on the road Hanging around with nothing to do And far away on the other side of town Where the doctors grow and the sweet dreams can be found There's a road which has houses on the side That's not from where he came Found the powder, the goodies and a sorry mind He needed the stuff just to survive He got the money from the women on the street On their way to market to get something to eat When they were married on a Friday Early seventeen and that's where he died From a switchblade knife his last thought was fear At his funeral nobody came And far away on the other side of town Where the doctors grow and the sweet dreams can be found There's a road which has houses on the side That's not from where he came Born long ago to a girl from Boston Conceived in an alley filled with stars A room above a doorway To a liquor store was he