Brooklyn Kid

Well I gotta friend that lives south of town

Loves to sit and burn one down

Spin some vinyl on his stereo

Every now and then he speaks of war

One tour of duty on a foreign shore

Fightin' for his way home

Fightin' for his way home

Returnin' home to his native land

Left New York for Texas man

Quieter times were in his cards

He met a girl she met a man

Dropped to his knees and he took her hand

A simple life ain't that hard

No, a simple life ain't all that hard

A new generation on the ground

Nothin' in the world could bring him down

Flyin' like he had wings

Several years came and went

Not one of them was poorly spent

A good man's life he was chiselin'

Yeah, a good man's life he was chiselin'

Reflecting on the Viet-Cong

Uncle John's Band and a Dylan song

Smellin' like it's supper time

You know it brought a tear to his eye

The day that Jerry Garcia died

He said he was the genius of his time

Yeah, A Friend of the Devil is a Friend of Mine

Don't try to find it

Make the time

A couple of joints and a bottle of wine

You'll be glad that you did

With the Grateful Dead spinnin' round

Kick your feet back and be astound

By the life of the Brooklyn kid