Lyrics
I was born in this city
In May I turned three
My mom and dad struggle
for my sisters and me
But they keep their promise
For rich or for poor
In Brooklyn, 1964
In the afternoon sun
we walk to the store
Small bells chime
as we open the door
I play in the sawdust
on the butcher shop floor
In Brooklyn, 1964
But the wind that’s blowing down this street
will carry me away
And my eyes will never shine again
The way that they sparkle today
My grandfather takes me
through the streets of Bay Ridge
To the pier where we sit
and admire the new bridge
He says there’s nothing
we can’t build or explore
In Brooklyn, 1964
Copyright 2011 Kevin McLeod. All rights reserved.