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It's a Long Walk From Queen to Bloor 2

It's a Long Walk From Queen to Bloor Lyrics by Walter Zenko Verse 1 Filmore Hotel, Dundas East, Cheap rooms, stale air, sheets gone thin. Flickering sign, a barroom stage, He played like a man at war with age. Strings bent hard, his fingers bled, He sang of dreams that long were dead. Chorus Where the neon hides the truth, Where a song can’t pay your dues. And the past won’t give you youth, It’s a long, cold walk from Queen to Bloor. Verse 2 Jarvis girls in plastic heels, Trading time for cheap motel deals. Backroom dice and underground smoke, The city laughs and then it chokes. Massage signs flash behind old blinds, Where time forgets and no one minds. Verse 3 Cheap watch ticking in a dealer’s hand, Pawnshop dreams and cover bands. Dope deals down below the lot, No one's clean, and no one's caught. He sang, "This city never weeps, It bargains in the dark,and buries the lost." Chorus Where the neon hides the truth, Where a song can’t pay your dues. And the past won’t give you youth, It’s a long, cold walk from Queen to Bloor. Verse 4 Streetcar sparks along the line, Late night prayers and cheap red wine. A preacher shouts on Yonge and Elm Selling heaven cheap and hard. Coins drop thin into his cup, Faith runs dry but he won’t give up. Verse 5 Basement clubs and borrowed sound, Names get lost, faces drown. Promoters smile and promises fade, Every deal a masquerade. Every door another test, Every yes, a gamble veiled. Verse 6 Snow comes early, snow comes fast, Covers sins and broken pasts. Boot heels crack on frozen stone, Everyone’s cold and everyone’s alone. He pulls his coat a little tight, Plays through hunger, plays through night. Chorus Where the neon hides the truth, Where a song can’t pay your dues. And the past won’t give you youth, It’s a long, cold walk from Queen to Bloor. Verse 7 Morning finds him counting change, Coffee bitter, fingers bleeding. A mirror shows a face he knows, From better days he won’t disclose. He hums a tune he almost lost, Measures dreams against the cost. Verse 8 Last call rings, the lights come on, Another night already gone. He packs his axe, no crowd, no pay, Just one more song he couldn’t save. Still he walks, because he must, With callused hope and stubborn trust. Outro (Sung) Up Sherbourne where the ghosts still play, No moon, no stars to light the way. Just buzzing wires, the hum of tires, And echoes of chords and old desires. It’s a long, cold walk from Queen to Bloor,