Lay down your burdens
Lay down your cares
The Holy Virgin
She's gonna greet you up there

With a big can of spray paint
With a big blank wall
And I can guaran-damn -tee ya
There ain't no cops around at all

Graffiti Limbo
Where do you go?
Graffiti Limbo
When there ain't no justice

I only speak for myself
But the word around town
Is that something's shaking
In the underground

I only speak for myself
But the word on the street
Is that the writing's on the wall
And the cops on the beat

I wrote this song for a man named Michael Stewart. A young black man
arrested while writing graffiti on a subway wall in New York City. And while
under arrest, surrounded by eleven white transit cops. Michael Stewart was
strangled to death and when his case went to court not one cop was found
guilty because the coroner lost the evidence. You see, in order to determine
that Michael Stewart was strangled to death, the coroner had to use Michael
Stewart's eyeballs, his eyes, as evidence. So now when I tell you that it
was Michael Stewart's eyes that the coroner lost, do you know what I mean
when I tell you that justice is blind?

You can have your little Style Wars
You can keep your little dance
But Those Crazy Writers
Don't stand a ghost of a chance

It's "Color Them Cons" (Mayor Koch said)
Call it a crime
It's steer clear of the engineer
Of the Midnight Special Line