As Simon walked from Street to Street
So many that, so few repeat
In this City of New York
Where natives never walk, they “wawk”
In a county, known as Queens,
A County where he spent his teens.
There’s a Boulevard of the same name
Don’t try to cross, it’s just insane,
You’ve no doubt heard of that “Boulevard of Broken Dreams,”
This street’s nickname is different, or so it seems.
‘cause now that each driver comes complete with their cell
phones
It is now “the Boulevard of Broken Bones.”
At one time, Simon, too, drove upon that famous street
It was then that he said “my dreams are all complete.”
He had the perfect car, telephone and wife.
Everything that a man needs for his life
Then came the day, that his leg began to shake.
That made it hard to move from gas to brake.
So he told his perfect wife
“Betsy, what’s to become of our perfect life.
“Betsy, what’s to become of our perfect life.
For I fear if I can’t drive,
While talking, eating and giving five,
We will be among those we’ve seen
Who can’t afford a Limousine.”
Now from time to time Simon will remember
All those that his driving did nearly dismember.
And those behind the wheel
Of those creatures made of steel
Like today when he was safe alone at home
He had dodged the moped driver with his cell phone
the driver yelled Portuguese
because he almost lost his meal of cheese
which he was eating with his left hand
while he led a marching band
The band was playing disco sounds
They vibrate still as Simon’s head pounds
Such is life in New York City
Where I write this little ditty.
