Joey - Bob Dylan, Jacques Levy
    Born in Red Hook Brooklin
    In the year of a-who knows when
    Opened up his eyes
    To the tune of an accordion
    Always on the outside
    Of whatever side there was
    When they asked him why it had to be that way
    "Well", he answered, "Just because".

    Larry was the oldest
    Joey was next to last
    They called Joe ``Crazy''
    The baby they called ``Kid Blast''
    Some say they lived off gambling
    An' runnin' numbers too
    It always seemed they got caught between
    The mob an' the men in blue.

    Joey, Joey
    King of the street, child of clay
    Joey, Joey
    What made them want to come
    An' blow your head away?

    There was talk they killed their rivals
    But the truth was far from that
    No one ever knew for sure
    What they were really at
    When they tried to strangle Larry
    Joey almost hit the roof
    He went out that night to seek revenge
    Thinkin' he was bullet-proof.

    Then the war broke out at the break of dawn
    It emptied out the streets
    Joey an' his brothers
    Suffered terrible defeats
    Till they ventured out behind the lines
    An' took five prisoners
    They stashed them away in a basement
    Called 'em amateurs.

    The hostages were tremblin'
    When they heard a man explain
    "Let's blow this place to Kingdom Come
    Let Con Edison take the blame"
    But Joey stepped up, he raised his hand
    Said, "We ain't those kind of men
    It's peace an' quiet that we need
    To go back to work again".

    Joey, Joey
    King of the street, child of clay
    Joey, Joey
    What made them want to come
    An' blow your head away?

    The police department hounded him
    They called him Mr. Smith
    They got him on conspiracy
    They were never sure who with
    "What time is it?" said the judge
    To Joey when they met
    "Five to ten", said Joey
    Judge says, "That's exactly what you get".

    He did ten years in Attica
    Readin' Nietzsche an' Wilhem Reich
    They threw him in the hole one time
    For tryin' to stop a strike
    His closest friends were black men
    'Cause they seem to understand
    What it's like to be in society
    With a shackle on your hand.

    They let him out in '71
    He'd lost a little weight
    But he dressed like Jimmey Cagney
    An' i swear he did look great
    He tried to find a way back in
    To the life he left behind
    To the boss he sais, "I have returned
    An' now i want what's mine".

    Joey, Joey
    King of the street, child of clay
    Joey, Joey
    What made them want to come
    An' blow your head away?

    It was true that in his later years
    He would not carry a gun
    "I'm around too many children", he'd say
    "They should never know of one"
    Yet he walked right into the clubhouse
    Of his life-long deadly foe
    Emptied out the register
    Said, "Tell 'em it was Carzy Joe".

    One day they blew him down
    In a clam bar in New York
    He could see it comin' thru the door
    As he lifted up his fork
    He pushed the table over
    To protect his family
    The he staggered out into the streets
    Of Little Italy.

    Joey, Joey
    King of the street, child of clay
    Joey, Joey
    What made them want to come
    An' blow your head away?

    Sister Jacqueline and Carmela
    And mother Mary all did weep
    I heard his best friend Frankie say
    "He ain't dead, he's just asleep"
    Then i saw the old man's limousine
    Head back towards the grave
    I guess he had to say one last goodbye
    To the son that he could not save.

    The sun turned cold over President Street
    And the town of Brooklin mourned
    They said a mass in the old church
    Near the house where he was born
    And someday if god's in heaven
    Overlookin' his preserve
    I know the men that shot him down
    Will get what they deserve.

    Joey, Joey
    King of the street, child of clay
    Joey, Joey
    What made them want to come
    An' blow your head away?

     
    Disk

    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words