on the eleven bus, i met a nurse,
she was caressing a cigarette
she told me she enjoyed opera
and i wondered if anyone knew who i was

i gave some change away
to rags pouring out on the sax
he said "thanks man" but i knew
he needed music more than money
and i wondered if anyone knew who i was

the cynic's bank had a glass door
and i walked in like a cynic
there was a dusty cop with a pair of eyes
i asked him if he ever shot anyone
he asked why i wanted to know
and i wondered if anyone knew who i was

in line, i met a chick named dorothy
she said she loved fridays
but it was a monday so i assumed
she loved mondays too
i told her that and also
that she had a nice smile
and i wondered if anyone knew who i was

a cold black woman in her thirties
called me over like i was a slave owner
i asked her for my balance
she gave it to me and i said nothing
i pulled my shirt up, not sure of anything
and revealed my grandfather's .45
she screamed and i spun around
and with a frozen hand shot across the room
and i wondered if anyone knew who i was

people were screaming and i asked for money
the black woman was angry
but i think that was her way
showing her anger, i mean,
i think if i was raised by her
i wouldn't be who i am
and i shot her, don't know why
the tellers now started to think i was serious
hurriedly gathering money for me
and i wondered if anyone knew who i was

i gave them a garbage bag to put the money in
it turned out to be pretty heavy
i dragged it behind me just as i noticed
an avalanche of police lights, i dropped the bag
and found dorothy's hand
running with her into the girl's bathroom
i asked if she wanted a cigarette
because one of us might have to die
but she just told me that she really wanted to live
so i thrust the gun into my mouth
and i wondered who the hell i was