The Prodigals - Dreaming In Hell's Kitchen Lyrics
(chorus:)Of passion, love, and braveryA brown bag lunch, and a mug of tea,Through gates of horn and ivory,We’re dreaming in Hell’s Kitchen.A pugnacious politician in his armor-plated suitPropitiates the wealthy while he fiddles with his fluteHe’s crusader, Alexander, and Napolean to bootHe’s seeking fresh objectives on the borders of the KitchenSo there’s this one and there’s that one,Gracie Mansion & the ‘Street,Denouncing some poor devil who has nothing left to eat,And he’s not allowed to sleep here so he’d best stay on his feetFor we care so much about him that we’ll kick him from the Kitchen.There’s many on the breadline who never tried to fightAnd there’s many that have earned their breadBy working day and nightBut with all their sweat and labor was there chance that saw them rightWhile a hazard of the dice left the others by the kitchen?He stinks and he’s a drunkard, that bum we just passed byAnd I think but for the grace of God that likewise there go IAnd the buck inside his cup is less compassion for a sighThan libation when I’m dreaming in Hell’s Kitchen.
