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The beams and bridges | Cut the light on the ground | Into little triangles | And the rails run round | Through the rust and heat | The light and sweet | Coffee color of her skin. | Bound up in iron and wire and fate | Watching her walk him up to the gate | In front of the Ironbound schoolyard. | Kids will grow like weeds on a fence | She says they look for the light | They try to make sense | They come up through the cracks | Like grass on the tracks | And she touches him goodbye... (da Ironbound/Fancy Poultry, n. 3) (it) |
