My pocket don't drive me fast, my mother treats me slow, my statue's got a concrete heart but you're the coldest bitch I know. In the factory that yo… - Sixto Rodriguez

Born in the troubled city
in rock and roll USA
in the shadow of the tallest building,
I vowed I would break away.
Listened to the Sunday actors
but all they would ever say:
That you can't get away from it.
No you can't get away.
No you can't get away from it.
No you can't get away.

The generals hate holidays.
Others shoot up to chase the sun blues away.
Another store front church is open.
Sea of neon lights. A boxer, his shadow fights.
Soldier tired and sailor broken.
Winter's asleep at my window.
Cold wind waits at my door.
She asks me up to her place
but I won't be down anymore.

Woman, please be gone.
You've stayed here much too long.
Don't you wish that you could cry?
Don't you wish I would die?
Seamy seesaw kids.
Child-women on the skids.
The dust will choke you blind.
The lust will choke your mind.
I kiss the floor, one kick, no more.
The pig and hose have set me free.
I've tasted Hate Street's hanging tree.
I've tasted Hate Street's hanging tree.