Simone Felice - New York Times lyrics

Hetti Blackbird, Hetti Blackbird Hetti Blackbird, that's the Indian's name Out in South Dakota, he stole a gold Range Rover And he drove it all over the empty plains While Apache pilots haunt the River Tigress In the laughing silence of the desert night And the price of c**aine on a favorite ball game I read it all, baby, in the New York Times A pervert from Jersey with a thirty-thirty Found them girls rehearsing in a ballet school And when he bust in, point his musket He turned Lilly white muslin into bright red bloom As I read it here on the coffee street pier I can't help but hear them buildings fall And the way they came down and way they jumped out There's no baseball glove in town that's gonna catch them all So every New Year we come to Times Square And we all howl there when the big ball drops Don't trust your junk mail, don't touch the third rail And baby, don't' you dare have the King of pop 'Cause the day they found him and brought his body in The things that Doctor did was enough to strike you blind So make my Lilly white lover, oh and oh, my brother Never make the cover of the New York Times