From the recording The Outsider
Lyrics
Two eggs, bacon and French toast
Here I am wandering on the East Coast
Abandoned places and my heroes’ ghosts
I am lost in the mist of West Freehold
No more fires on Main Street
No more riots, no new rug mill
The city’s changed, we all have changed
But the spark inside is still alive
Sunday morning at Sweet Lew’s Cafe
Unraveling the mysteries of deep Jersey
Real people talking about real things
Far from the city’s fake lighting
There’s a living spirit out there
Ringing echoes of a glorious past
I’m thousands miles from my own place
But I could feel home here, away from home
Sunday morning at Sweet Lew’s Cafe
Unraveling the mysteries of deep Jersey
Real people talking about real things
Far from the city’s fake lighting
From Randolf street to Thrill Hill
That’s a hell of a ride, don’t you think
Among the stars but your feet still on the ground
Never forgotten where you belong
Sunday morning at Sweet Lew’s Cafe
Unraveling the mysteries of deep Jersey
Real people talking about real things
Far from the city’s fake lighting
Sunday morning at Sweet Lew’s Cafe
Unraveling the mysteries of deep Jersey
Real people talking about real things
Far from the city’s fake lighting