Between the Houses The Paper Kites

There's gotta be a better place than Bourbon Street on a Friday
She don't want hand grenades or hurricanes
Got had by a shoe shiner just to hear his speech
Now every time they ask her where she got those shoes
She says "I got them right here on my feet"

In a dive bar off the boulevard down an alleyway
She smiles and I can tell this is what she's talking about
And the brothers gathered round the jukebox she said "I'm just passing through"
Put a quarter in and played her song
The whole damn room approved
They like her style and I do too

You don't want fake rain while you're sleeping
You don't want the praise when you lose
Beneath the streets, between the houses
All you want is a little truth

East side of the village up in New York City
Late nights running round trying to find the underground
Hidden bars and speakeasies - convinced there's another world
Of things we're missing out on
And all you want is to unfurl to the wind
Blow the roof off this whole town

You don't want fake rain while you're sleeping
You don't want the praise when you lose
Beneath the streets, between the houses
All you want is a little truth