Michael used to live next door to me
He was the first kid that I met on Haring St.
One grey morning back in 1985
New Jersey to Brooklyn seemed like a long drive
Moving every year
It never felt like home
New room only had two closet doors
Somebody left a set of old purple sparkle drums
With no hats or cymbals
Just a kick, snare and tom
On the second floor of 2158
We didn’t have many toys or video games to play
I was roadrunner and he was Spiderman
Pretending that one day we’ll be in a real band
I didn’t have any sticks
So, I played with silver spoons
Michael’s Casio was missing keys
I heard he was a priest and nowadays he strums
On his guitar while I still bang away on
a kick snare and tom