The moment of impact bursts through the silence and in a roar of sound, the final second is prolonged in a world of echoes as if the concrete and clay of Broadway itself was reliving its memories. The last great march past. Newsman stands limp as a whimper as audience and event are locked as one. Bing Crosby coos "You don't have to feel pain to sing the blues, you don't have to holla - you don't feel a thing in your dollar collar." Martin Luther King cries "Everybody Sing!" and rings the grand old liberty bell. Leary, weary of his prison cell, walks on heaven, talks on hell. J.F.K. gives the O.K. to shoot us, sipping Orange Julius and Lemon Brutus. Bare breasted cowboy double decks the triple champion. Who needs Medicare and the 35c flat rate fare, when Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers are dancing through the air? From Broadway Melody stereotypes the band returns to 'Stars and Stripes' bringing a tear to the moonshiner, who's been pouring out his spirit from the illegal still. The pawn broker clears the noisy till and clutches his lucky dollar bill.
      Echoes of the Broadway Everglades,
  With her mythical madonnas still walking in their shades:
  Lenny Bruce, declares a truce and plays his other hand.
  Marshall Mcluhan, casual viewin', head buried in the sand.
  Sirens on the rooftops wailing, but there's no ship sailing.
  Groucho, with his movies trailing, stands alone with his punchline
  failing.
  Klu Klux Klan serve hot soul food and the band plays 'In the Mood'
  The cheerleader waves her cyanide wand, there's a smell of
   peach blossom and bitter almonde.
  Caryl Chessman sniffs the air and leads the parade, he knows
   in a scent, you can bottle all you made.
  There's Howard Hughes in blue suede shoes, smiling at the
   majorettes smoking Winston Cigarettes.
  And as the song and dance begins, the children play at home
   with needles; needles and pins.
      Then the blackout.