Jungleland [Hammersmith Odeon, London ’75]

[Verse 1]
The rangers had a homecoming
In Harlem late last night
And the Magic Rat drove his sleek machine
Over the Jersey state line

[Verse 2]
Barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a Dodge
Drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain
The Rat pulls into town, rolls up his pants
Together they take a stab at romance
And disappear down Flamingo Lane

[Verse 3]
Well the Maximum Lawman run down Flamingo
Chasing the Rat and the barefoot girl
And the kids 'round there look just like shadows
Always silent, holding hands

[Chorus 1]
From the churches to the jails
Tonight there is silence in the world
As we take our stand
Down in Jungleland

[Verse 4]
The midnight gang's assembled
And picked a rendezvous for the night
They're gonna meet `neath that giant Exxon sign
That brings this fair city light

[Verse 5]
Man, there's an opera out on the Turnpike
And there's a ballet being fought out in the alley
Until the local cop's cherry top
It rips this holy night

[Verse 6]
The street's alive as secret debts are paid
Contacts made, they vanished unseen
Kids flash guitars just like switch-blades
Hustling for the record machine

[Chorus 2]
The hungry and the hunted
Explode into rock 'n' roll bands
That face off against each other out in the street
Down in Jungleland

[Bridge]
In the parking lot, the visionaries dress in the latest rage
Inside the backstreet girls are dancing to the records that the DJ plays
Lonely-hearted lovers struggle in dark corners, desperate as the night moves on
Just one look and a whisper and they're gone

[Verse 7]
Beneath the city two hearts beat
Soul engines running through a night so tender
In a bedroom locked, in whispers
Of soft fefusal and then, surrender

[Verse 8]
In the tunnels uptown, the Rat's own dream guns him down
Shots echo down them hallways in the night
No one watches when the ambulance pulls away
Or when the girl shuts out the bedroom light

[Verse 9]
Outside the street's on fire in a real death waltz
Between what's flesh and what's fantasy
And man, the poets down here don't write nothing at all
They just stand back and let it all be

[Chorus 3]
And in the quick of the night
They reach for their moment and try to make an honest stand
But they wind up wounded, not even dead
Tonight in Jungleland