The Killing Of Georgie

In these days of changing ways so called liberated days a story comes to mind of a friend of mine Georgie boy was gay I guess nothin' more or nothin' less the kindest guy I ever knew His mother's tears fell in vain the afternoon George tried to explain that he needed love like all the rest Pa said there must be a mistake how can my son not be straight after all I've said and done for him Leavin' home on a Greyhound bus cast out by the ones he loves A victim of these gay days it seems Georgie went to New York town where he quickly settled down and soon became the toast of the great white way Accepted by Manhattan's elite in all the places that were chic No party was complete without George Along the boulevards he'd cruise and all the old queens blew a fuse Everybody loved Georgie boy The last time I saw George alive was in the summer of seventy-five he said he was in love I said I'm pleased George attended the opening night of another Broadway hype but split before the final curtain fell Deciding to take a short cut home arm in arm they meant no wrong A gentle breeze blew down Fifth Avenue Out of a darkened side street came a New Jersey gang with just one aim to roll some innocent passer-by There ensued a fearful fight screams rang out in the night Georgie's head hit a sidewalk cornerstone A leather kid, a switchblade knife He did not intend to take his life He just pushed his luck a little too far that night The sight of blood dispersed the gang A crowd gathered, the police came An