3 a.m.
Heart is racing
At least we live upstairs
Get your shoes on your old man's outside
The delivery is here

Most markets in the city
Get bread from eighteen wheels
Ours comes in tan sedans

Follow the streetlight
To a suit and tie called Lucky
Is seen behind his stare
Sometimes his smile's there at Christmas
Wishing Happy New Year
And in the first week of every odd month
There's trash bags in the front seat
Don't mind helping with the laundry
Put it by the pantry

Years down the line
I hope I'm just as thoughtful

My last years of college
White knuckled from hopes that's left
A final needle in the haystack
Hiding in the bushes around our cul-de-sac
Never met half of my family
The fruit don't fall far from this tree
The taste is bitter-sweet

While the market still serves these southside alleys
Although business is slow
Time brought ash and silk soaked crimson
With the smell of smoke
And the keys fell down to me
In an open book
With my name and Lucky
Follow descent through the stains of ink
Black clothes the phantoms
A curse or remedy

Don't need a tailor
These hand-me-downs were meant for me

Took me down
Straight through the city's scars our stomping grounds
Trench coats know the sound
The owls perch in the coupe
With a hood for this new recruit
Omertá pricked my forefinger
Drip it on her picture
Now set it on fire
Burn this saint that holds my soul
I enter alive and I will have to get out dead

Bells don't ring
When the shield is for a checklist
And family's more than kinship bonds
Cobblestone and dust between each one
And Scrooge never cared for Jane Doe
Until they showed him how
We all learn better through models and examples

Thanks to Lucky
I earned my first few badges
Just like your good old man
Always tried to end things quickly
Out of empathy and mercy
In this brick and mortared Sherwood
Cast iron wolves howl till the world burns
Hear the people through the bolts of Robin Hood

Took me down
Straight through the city's scars our stomping grounds
Trench coats know the sound
The owls perch in the coupe
With a hood for this new recruit
Omertá pricked my forefinger
Drip it on her picture
Now set it on fire
Burn this saint that holds my soul
I enter alive and I will have to get out dead