Oh Danny Boy in the ‘loin

fresh red rose on crystal vase on white background
Oh Danny Boy, the Pipe the Pipe is calling
From the heart of Geary all the way to 
The Powell Station steps. 

Summer is knocking and all your friends
Are crying, and those not dead
Will be a-dying yet.

I hear your name drift in through my window
Some man is calling for you out loud,
I draw the curtains and I realize
Oh Danny Boy, it is you calling for yourself.

I am here hiding in the shadows
With a can of mace and a fully charged stun gun
And if you ever get the notion
To chase me Danny, boy I cannot promise I will run.

Why don't you go and call your mother?
She sits crying and speaking of the shame
Remembering the time that you robbed her
And hit her when she wouldn't give up her pin.

Oh Danny boy, the love roses they are scattered
Paper petals soggy on the smeary streets
Freed from the pipes that they inhabit
Waiting to be sold in the headshops to the freaks.

Danny, oh Danny Boy why are you calling
At the crack of dawn, and at the end of day?
Why do you cry your own name so frequently?
Oh Danny Boy are you trying to see if you call back
A fraction of the man you used to be?

There is a war raging on these dark streets.
There's a war, Danny, a war inside your head.
There's a war and all of us are fighting:
We cannot even sleep safe within our beds.

And Ill be here watching as summer comes on slowly
As the days lengthen and the heat brings in the haze
And I will see if you can summon
Some balls to do something better with your days.

And if you stumble or you come across
A bag which completely explodes your heart
And you can't make it to the ER in time
Oh Danny boy, I guess it will be a new start.

By and by I will see you, on that Golden Shore
That all of us must see,
That is unless Danny while you are cracked out
You do something awful
And end up regretting eternity.

Oh Danny Boy, the Pipe, the Pipe is calling
From Franklin all the way to Grant,
And you will spend today a walking
The Tenderloin
Oh Danny boy I wish our paths could part!



2 Comments

  1. Dan DeLeon

    Excellent. Reminds me of when my late wife and I stayed in the Geary Street Motel for a night. Autographed pictures of old blues men on the office wall. The digs were pretty grim–like it was as good a place as any to die in those parts. It really added variety to the honeymoon

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