While I don't agree with all of the positions that Curtis Sliwa has taken over the years, the fact that he's got a soft spot in his heart for NYC pigeons makes him something of a hero in my book. So here's a song: "Curtis Sliwa, Friend of the Pigeons" meant to honor his affection for New York's most maligned misunderstood wild creature: the pigeon! Song and images made with a motley assortment of AI tools.
(Verse 1)
Yo, Curtis Sliwa, he's the man in red,
Guardian Angels on the streets, keeping 'em fed,
But it's deeper than the hustle, deeper than the grind,
Got a heart for the pigeons, always on his mind.
In the concrete jungle, where the weak get crushed,
Curtis Sliwa stands tall, no rush,
Protectin' the block, watchin' over the crew,
But he got a soft spot for the birds too.
(Chorus)
Curtis Sliwa, friend of the pigeon,
On the streets of the city, he’s on a mission,
Rockin' that beret, with the heart of a lion,
Friend to the birds, and he ain't even tryin'.
(Verse 2)
While the gangs roll through, bringin' all that heat,
Curtis stays cool, never face defeat,
He’s got love for the streets, but he ain't blind,
Knows the pigeons need a break, yeah, he’s that kind.
In the alleys and the rooftops, he’s spreading the crumbs,
While the hood respects him, the beat of the drums,
He’s got the city’s back, from the rich to the poor,
Curtis Sliwa, yeah, he's the hardcore.
(Chorus)
Curtis Sliwa, friend of the pigeon,
On the streets of the city, he’s on a mission,
Rockin' that beret, with the heart of a lion,
Friend to the birds, and he ain't even tryin'.
(Bridge)
Some see a nuisance, he sees a soul,
In a city so cold, he's making 'em whole,
Pigeons in the sky, they circle and soar,
Curtis got their back, they ain't alone no more.
He’s the guardian of the block, protector of the flock,
In the chaos of the night, he's the steady rock,
From the street fights to the midnight skies,
Curtis Sliwa, with those watchful eyes.
(Verse 3)
Yo, he’s been through the wars, seen the darkest nights,
But he's still standing strong, ready for the fights,
With a bird on his shoulder and the city at his feet,
Curtis Sliwa, he can’t be beat.
In the hustle and the grind, he finds his peace,
Feeding the pigeons, his troubles release,
A king with no throne, just a heart of gold,
Curtis Sliwa, his story unfolds.
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