You're taken up, you're taken up, and I am by the graveside,
with a bit of whiskey in me, feeling a little rough.
And I hazily see the flowers,
I hazily see the flowers by your grave are genuine,
and it is a nice touch,
because you're taken up, you're taken up, but why,
why is the world so tough?
I wish I knew; I wish I knew.
because there is a pounding in my brain,
and a throbbing in my skull,
now what did they do to you, what did they do?
They left you alone on the streets shot through,
shot through, with bullet holes in you,
but what did you do, what did you do?
For there was a kid nearby shot too, a kid nearby shot too,
a six-year-old who got a bullet in the head,
who was too young to die that way, yes, too young,
oh, how brutally he was killed in the Brooklyn night,
his blood was all over the place and his brains,
Oh, why does this goddamn world have to be so so cold?
I wish I knew,
and as I hold onto your gravestone, hoping for an answer,
I get nothing, nothing but the thoughts of you,
but I get no answers and I expected no replies,
yet all I get, yet all I get is tears in my eyes,
tears and you have been taken up,
you have been taken up,
and I, I curse the sky, I curse Brooklyn and the sky.
