Out in the alleys of Austin, There's a song on the side of the wall, The bricks and the bottles and the mongrels Are trying to make sense out of it all, and the moon looks all too familiar The kids say "There ain't no man in there"; While the laid back baboon By the light of the Texas moon Is combing his auburn hair. He's just combing his auburn hair. Now out in the alleys of Heaven There's a funky feeling angel strumming chords. While the preachers sit and get stoned in their Buicks, Jesus Christ rolls by in his Ford. And the clouds are like the feathers of sparrows A thousand different colors of grey. It's the hustle of the paradise bar room, And the glory of hanging out in space, It's the glory of hanging out in space. In the alleys of Austin and Heaven The song they're playing is the same. The jam sessions sound like the gutters, As the muddy licks and sticks roll down the drain. And the drainpipe she rolls out to the river, And the Pedernales flows out to the sea, And the sea waters rise up to Heaven, And rain down on the alleys of Austin, And you And me