Half past nine in the middle of a wednesday morning sneaker parade The city sweats with the heat and the smoke And all the urban decay A boy is running with a broken arm A dog is dreaming of a distant farm And everybody that is here is trying to kill each other It's killing me... What's Wednesday want from me ? I don't really wanna know Whatever Wednesday wants By Thursday I'll have found a way to go Paper tigers on the magazine racks Their mouths are roaring with rage Old bag lady with a coffee sits there reading from a torn out page Another thief is trying to make a break A man is crying out for goodness' sake The garbage turns into an ocean as the dirty gutter spills on the street No more concrete jungle prisons I'll be going home