This is the third of June, nineteen eighty eight

A highly unimportant day

Some airplane gliding into one of the bigger clouds over Manhattan

In a downtown far away, Mr. Toomy, our face in a crowd

The city was slow and tired

The wall street boys wearing their ties around their neck

Like boxers towels after a fight

Mr. Toomy stopped his pinstripe suit outside a barber shop

Looked at his face, took off his jacket and stepped on it

Who's that, what's that, what do you mean

I'll never know where I lost my dream

Who's that, what's that, gimme your name

Third of June, end of game

No looking to the right

No looking to the left

Lenny is a target, always on track

Lenny is a target, nobody shoots

Lenny is a target lost the route

Ruins of a childs old fantasy

Ruins of a child was Miami

Lenny is a target, nobody shoots

Lenny is a target lost the route

Who's that, what's that, what do you mean

I'll never know when I lost my dream

Who's that, what's that, gimme your name

Third of June, end of game

Mr. Toomy stopped his pinstripe suit outside a barber shop

Looked at his face

Took off his jacket

Put it on the pavement

Stepped on it

And started preaching like a monk from another world

After some minutes, he had a little crowd

Which disappeared when a police car passed by slowly

Like rolling gloom

And Mr. Toomy throws his voice 'til he was the only one in the area

At this early night of June third, nineteen eighty eight

Who's that, what's that, what do you mean

I'll never know when I lost my dream

Who's that, what's that, gimme your name

Third of June, end of game