Thank you for the lyrics, ranae. You did a great job. I made some slight changes to make up my interpretation:

I met a kid in Brooklyn and he pointed at the sky
He had liquor on his breath, and he had fire in his eyes
He staggered at me, stumbled, and I helped him to his feet
I led him up the stairs and sat upon his balcony
He wielded up his glass and waved it 'round just like a sword
But one more soda whiskey left me feeling pretty bold
He said "I'd rather take dead aim than shoot my pistol in the air.
I'd rather be a traitor than a man who doesn't care."
uh uh ahhhh
Than a man who doesn't care
uh ahhhhhh
I met a girl in Ithica she took to me at once
I looked just like her brother who had died when she was young
She whispered me her secrets, and she whispered me her fear
And said so many things that I would never wanna hear
She tried to draw me in just like a sickness in the soul
And said, "My lil' confidant, together we must go."
If they ask you for your papers, just respectfully decline
It's true that I was born here, but this country isn't mine
uh uh ahhhh
This country isn't mine
uh ahhhhhh

chorus
So listen well, son, to conversation
And always take from the words of the people that you meet
If you do this
Bear a witness, you might help a little still

And out in California, with an old dear friend
We drank expensive bourbon and we tried to talk again
He looked down at his watch and ran a hand across his head
Said, "I'm working in the morning. Man, I got to get to bed."
I nodded, "Tes, of course," and I was happy to oblige
And we both took one more sip before the green wide open skies
He said, "One thing I remember every evening in these hills . . .
The sun may set on friendship but never on your bills."
uh uh ahhhh
But never on your bills
ohhhh...(ohh)...(ohh)