And the Poets Down Here...
Greetings From Asbury Park 2000
Music pours from the open doors to the empty street outside
And Tillie tries to keep a smile but there's an empty look in those eyes
Beyond the boardwalk the sands deserted as if they were Fool's Gold
And pilgrims weep for memories and tell the stories they were told
"Bring back the Glory Days"...they sing
"Bring back the Jersey Girls"
And they cry for the chance to ride again on the Tilt-A-Whirl
"Bring back the carnival lights
To the boulevard"
And they search to find the town they know from an old postcard
The walls are filled with eyes and smiles of those who went before
And the faithful breathe the breath of their heroes as they wander in the door
They beg the pony on the wall, "Tell us, what history did you see?
And could the gypsy ever tell the fortune quite as grim as it would be?"
The salt air off the crashing waves cools sunburned skin no more
But whistles through the broken panes and underneath the boarded doors
Abandoned ghost town of the east---once wild eastern summer Shore
Believers search for ways to cope---praying that there is still hope in what the future holds in store
"Bring back the Glory Days"...they sing
"Bring back the Jersey Girls"
And they cry for the chance to ride again on that Tilt-A-Whirl
"Bring back the carnival lights
To the boulevard"
Where is the town they fell in love with on that old postcard?
And as darkness creeps from the eastern edge to blanket the entire town
The pilgrims board their train of faith and listen to its lonely sound
Broken-hearted saints and sinners leaving from the Promised Land
Tillie's empty eyes and fading smile in their hearts and old postcards in their hands
