The Walk Of Fame (nuvocoke@gmail.com) Undiscovered movie stars following a dream... walk the streets of Hollywood each day... past the Chinese Theater and the souvenir shops... they're waiting for that special part to play. The concrete stars seem kinda dirty today... as I stroll along the walk of fame. Tourists, by the thousands, following a dream... walk the streets of Hollywood each day... eating at MacDonald's and visiting the wax museum... they're waiting for some stardust to fall their way. The concrete stars seem kinda dirty today... as I stroll along the walk of fame. Do you remember sweet Norma Jean? She was the ultimate beauty queen... How about Elvis, or maybe James Dean? The trail of stardust is so much more than we've seen ...from scene... to scene... to scene... Girls without a future and men without a past... walk the streets of Hollywood each night... in front of the adult book store... and down to the corner... doing business better done out of sight. The concrete stars don't reflect too much light... as I stroll along the walk of fame. Take a stroll along the walk of fame... fill the concreter footsteps... buy a souvenir and go your way... but, don't forget the ones who walk at night... where dreams might lead to nightmares... while waiting for that special part to play. The concrete stars seem kinda dirty today... as I stroll along the walk of fame.

MARY THE MIDNIGHT MISSIONARY (nuvocoke@gmail.com) Mary, the midnight missionary used to have a dream... when she was just a sweet young thing, lickin' on a cold ice cream. She wanted to be famous. She wanted to go far. She wanted men fallin' at her feet. She wanted to be a rock star. (Now, the first time I met Mary, it was 3 o'clock in the morning.. she was skipping down the middle of the street, singing to herself... what i came to think of as Mary's "bop bop" song...) She didn't look old enough to be out of high school, but she was walkin' the city streets, late at night, all alone. Passer-bys would honk their horns, acting like horny fools. The girl remained real cool, she'd stop and put a quarter in a pay phone. She's Mary, the midnight missionary... wandering the boulevard like it was her own backyard. She's waiting for some boy to take her dating. Everybody knows her at the corner bar. She's like a famous rock star. Oh Mary, you rock smokin' visionary, straight from Haight-Ashbury, oh Mary. ' barely tall enough to be allowed on the big rides at the amusement park, this girl always knew how to draw a crowd with the tricks she'd perform in the dark. She even had a pet hamster that she'd carry in a five-gallon can on her arm... like some sort of crazy, giant goodluck charm. She's Mary, the midnight missionary... wandering the boulevard like it was her own backyard. She's waiting for whatever you're contemplating. Everyone's seen her at the liquor store. When she's hangin' out front waitin' to score. Oh Mary, you rock smokin' visionary, straight from Haight-Ashbury, oh Mary. What a screwed up world, where a little girl's biggest wishes can become so overgrown and her dreams end up comin' kinda true, while she takes a trip through the twilight zone. Lives can get so turned around, all inside out and upside down... Fame and fortune are a thorny crown... especially in the baddest part of town. She's Mary, the midnight missionary... wandering the boulevard like it was her own backyard. She's waiting for her very own personal satan. Downtown, uptown, in the park... Mary always knows where to find a spark. Oh Mary, you rock smokin' visionary, straight from Haight-Ashbury, oh Mary. Mary, Mary, so contrary, where does your garden grow? 'with coca leaves and hypodermic sleeves all lined up in a row... oh Mary...

Butterfly's Shadow (nuvocoke@gmail.com) I fly in a butterfly's shadow... soaring much higher than the cloudiest day. I cry with a butterfly's clear tear drops... but, just until the pain stops... gotta wash it away. So, they say it's all about having a good time... Live each day. Find a way to have a good time... Come what may, gotta keep on having a good time... Hiding in a butterfly's shadow... I've seen so many friends just fade away. Dying is a butterfly's illusion a bittersweet conclusion to the games we must play. So, they say it's all about having a good time... Live each day. Find a way to have a good time... Come what may, gotta keep on having a good time... A caterpillar crawls on the ground... watching the butterflies in the breeze. flittering colors that speak without a sound silent whispers of the butterfly's song to me... They sing: Butterflies are free... Butterflies are free... Butterflies are free... Butterflies are free... I want to live in a butterfly's temple... sweet and simple like it's meant to be. I want to see with a butterfly's keen vision... a vibrant world dance and swirl all around me. So, they say it's all about having a good time... Live each day. Find a way to have a good time... Come what may, gotta keep on having a good time...

Jingle Town (nuvocoke@gmail.com) "roller's" flashing lights all red, white, and blue hey paranoid people, they're coming after you... red light, green light, it's all the same whether you're black, brown, or white you're still caught in the game... (CHORUS) it's going down in jingle town... come gather 'round and let me tell you 'bout this funky place I wish I'd never found... it's in the middle of the city, but outta this world, when god created jingle town, his hair must o' curled... (I mean like nappy, you know, kinky...) a brother wrote "yo' momma" on a greasy brick wall, by an action packed number in a sleazy scrawl... well, the rats in the rubbish tend to make your flesh crawl, but, that feeling isn't all you're gonna get in jingle town... I saw a man walking down the street, with a sign saying he'd work for something to eat... red, yellow, green light, they'd pass him by... nobody ever stopped, nobody wanted to try... (CHORUS) I mean coiled, you know, like a snake...) don't read the writing there, don't breath the air... you're bound to catch something if you stand and stare, keep your hand in your pockets, but, don't play with what's there, or you might just go "all the way" in jingle town... concrete path, all beaten and tread, the straight and narrow arrow of the walking dead... red light, green light, again and again... it's like a day and night crusade in the lion's den... (CHORUS) (I mean like tubular... totally...)

Teenage Runaway (nuvocoke@gmail.com) my name is Enrique, I live on the street... I used to have a mama and a papa, they'd always make sure I'd eat all of my vegetables... but, they'd never really listen to me whenever I had a care... and then I finally made the wrong decisions and they were never there... now I'm a teenage runaway... a teenage runaway... my name is Lenisha, I live on the street... I was pregnant by the age of 13, my parents used to dress me nice and neat, like a perfect little angel... but, they'd never really listen to me whenever I had a care... and then I finally made the wrong decisions and they were never there... now I'm a teenage runaway... and a teenage hooker... (bridge) I always wanted to live my life the way I felt everyone should, never try to hurt anyone, always try to be good... my name is Jonathan, I live on the street... I used to be a strsaight "A" student, my parents thought that couldn't be beat... I guess I finally showed them... but, they'd never really listen to me whenever I had a care... and then I finally made the wrong decisions and they were never there... now I'm a teenage runaway... and a teenage addict... my name is Karolyn, I don't live on the street... I hang out at the mall each day, L.A. gear on my feet... maybe they'll write that in the paper... mom and dad don't listen to me, whenever I have a care... and now that I have made the wrong decision, nobody's gonna be there... I'll be a teenage runaway, or a teenage suicide... (bridge)

Lullaby For A Dead Friend (nuvocoke@gmail.com) Close your weary eyes, the time to weep is past... a sweet lullaby might help you sleep, at last. As the golden sandman fills your head with dreams I'll watch over you, so sleep little darling, sleep. On your long journey home, even an angel could grow old... a sweet lullaby might protect you from the cold. As the golden sandman fills your head with dreams I'll watch over you, so sleep little darling, sleep. As the golden sandman fills your head with dreams I'll watch over you, so sleep little darling, sleep.

The Christmas Rap (nuvocoke@gmail.com) one white christmas, on a very silent night, a little drummer boy dreamed of a winter wonderland where peace on earth and joy to the world became something more than the titles of Christmas carrols... when he woke up he made three ishes on the Christmas star... the first was that each day could be like Christmas, the second was to feed the world, and the greatest gift of all, better than a sleigh ride, silver bells, or a hard candy Christmas, the third wish was for the Christmas song that could help the people of today understand the message behind all Christmas songs... then he wrote The Christmas Rap... I remember walking down the street one silent night with my head in the clouds, hey, I was feeling alright when it suddenly occurred to me tonight was something more, then I realized the date was December 24... (hey man, that's Christmas eve, I know that did you know that? - yeah, I know that, now let me finish the song, okay? - okay...) now. I have to admit I couldn't see a single change from any other night, but that was nothing strange, because, out in this street, the only "ho," ho, ho, is the one you pay for services when she gets into your door... (hey man, they won't let you talk about a ho on the radio at Christmas time, that ain't what they want to hear about... Christmas ain't about reality... - hey let me finish the song, okay? - okay...) there was no Christmas carrol singers or Christmas tree lights burning brightly through the windows of this tenament's heights, it as just business as usual, sex, drugs and fights... street life don't take a holiday on these Hollyday nights... (hey man, you mean the drug dealers and the pimps don't believe in Santa Claus? that's un-American - hey quit interrupting and let me finish the song, okay? - okay...) life itself ain't easy, but, the streets make it crazy, being forced to lose all dignity is anything but lazy, addiction is the cause, but nobody's got the cure, the pusher wants the money and the able are too pure... (hey man, do you mean that the people who could help usually pretend that its just not their problem - yeah man, now let me finish the song, okay? - okay...) so, remember, if you're able, to lend a helping hand, take a look out on the street and try to understand... the users, the abusers, they don't want to be that way, it's a sickness, won't you help them learn to celebrate a normal Christmas day? (hey man, do you really think people on the street deserve the same as anybody else? - hey, I know it, didn't you listen to my rap? - do you ean, when you said...)

Dead Brown Leaves (nuvocoke@gmail.com) (intro) did you bring the chiva? I've got the outfit... let's do it right now... a cool breeze blows the dead brown leaves as they gather at my feet... with them go my hopes and dreams, around & around & around, in endless circles on the ground... it seems that the dead brown leaves are like the souls of the ones who went before me... whirling endlessly, in deathly defeat, they scatter on the floor forevermore, before me... standing at a payphone, alone, in the dark, waiting for the "tricks" that life will play taking care of business every day, every night you try to "fix" what's wrong, but the fix is never right... smoke comes from the ashes, the ashes turn to dust, you hang out at the bus stop doing what you must, sometimes you think it's over and everything's alright... then you start to feel the urge again, it happens every night... dead brown leaves I'm calling to you, my call is so loud, but too soft to get through, don't you know the path is hidden from me... lost in a concrete jungle, I cannot see, I cannot see through the dead brown leaves, the dead brown leaves... (close) can we do it again? do we have enough? let's go get some more... a cool breeze blows the dead brown leaves as they gather at my feet... with them go my hopes and dreams, around & around & around, in endless circles on the ground... around & around & around, in endless circles on the ground... around & around & around, in endless circles on the ground... around & around & around, in endless circles on the ground... oh please, let's do it just one more time...

Fallen Angel (nuvocoke@gmail.com) I was driving, she was walking... I picked her up, she did the talking... said her name was "Angel", then laughed like the devil and found a radio station that was rocking... (CHORUS) I could see the fallen angel in her eyes... hiding from the shadows of the night, the fear, the lies... I could see the fallen angel everytime she smiled... the streetlights reflection couldn't mask the eyes of this child I could see the fallen angel running wild... dropped out of school, kicked out of her home, left out on the streets alone... flat out of money, flat on her back, flat out of luck on heroin and crack... (CHORUS) a teenage addict, a teenage whore, a teenage victim in a grownup war... how does it happen? who can we blame? how can we win when it's not a game? (CHORUS)