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