She lives up on the fifth floor. 
It'll be ten long years this fall.
Sixty five years young and counting, 
she thinks she's seen it all.

It's a nice summer evening, 
the neighbourhood is alive with sound.
People playing, talking, a radio blasting, 
balls bouncing in the playground.

Across the street there's a pretty young girl,
a man casually draped on her shoulder.
The Dawg at the corner has a beer in one hand,
gold capped teeth and a fat blunt in the other.

Seems like everybody is outside today.
From up here it's all good, even the bums look happy.
It's routine, the kinda July scene she's seen, 
year after year in the city.

But then, sudden chaos.
Pop, pop, pop, somebody opens up with a glock.
Terrified screams, shattered dreams, police sirens.
Pandemonium all over the block.

Kids crying, running-scared, searching for their moms.
Another fucked up day they won't soon forget.
Bodies, blood everywhere.
Three young men just caught their last sunset.

She ducks inside quickly. 
Closes the window, shaking her head in disgust.
If she could she'd move the hell out. 
Lord knows she's terrified and tired of the fuss.

This is their world, you stay at your own risk, 
free like a prisoner, suffer and pay the price.
This isn't mr rogers cozy neighbourhood.
Its the projects son, it's gangsters paradise.

Paradise - copyright © 1999-2001 Ahkenaton  All rights reserved