We may have to fight br With concealed guns br And razor-sharp knives br To make it from the east side br To our lost friends on the west side. br br We have seen the blood-spattered pavement br Mournfully cradle the dead, br Eyes begin to slowly shut br Softly flashing last prayers br And farewell glances. br br The pirate life in the gang-sectioned-off city, br Luna, with your tight jeans and sweet smile, br We made peace with the Hispanic kids, br They’ll let us slide for the next mile br Until we at least catch up with Joey the Freak. br br Hold on tight the journey has just begun br And I can feel the breath of considerable threats, br But you’re like a good-luck charm, sweetheart, br So I’m placing my bets, br We’ll find Joey and then make it home for another night.