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| | Am | Am7 |
| In the | ironbound section near | Avenue L |
| | F | Fadd9 |
| Where the | Portuguese women come to | see what you sell |
| | Am | Am7 |
| The c | louds so low the | morning so slow |
| | F | Fadd9 |
| As the | wires cut through the | sky |
| | Am | Am7 |
| The | beams and bridges cut the | light on the ground |
| | F | Fadd9 |
| Into | little triangles and the | rails run round |
| | Am | Am7 |
| Through the | rust and the heat the | light and sweet |
| | F | Fadd9 |
| Coffee | color of her | skin |
| | Em | F | Em |
| | Bound up in | wire and | fate |
| | F | Em |
| Watching her | walk him up to the | gate |
| | F |
| In front of the | ironbound school yard |
| | Am | Am7 |
| | Kids will grow like | weeds on a fence |
| | F | Fadd9 |
| She says they | look for the light they | try to make sense |
| | Am | Am7 |
| They | come up through the cracks, like | grass on the tracks |
| | F | Fadd9 |
| | She touches him good | bye |
| | Em | F | Em |
| | Steps off the | curb and into the | street |
| | F | Em |
| The blood and | feathers near her | feet |
| | F |
| Into the | ironbound market |