A singer must die for the lie in his voice.
And I thank you, I thank you for doing your duty,
you keepers of truth, you guardians of beauty.
Your vision is right, my vision is wrong,
I'm sorry for smudging the air with my song.
"It is not length of life, but depth of life." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
She goes low on the seats when she gets high in her car
She looks shallow but she's neck deep in the steamy dreams of the guys along the harbor bars
She's pulling out her shirttails and she's jacking up her socks
Stern and stoned and confident, coming up towards the jukebox
Born into the only songs that everybody finally sings along
B-1 is for the good girls and it's "Only The Good Die Young"
C-9 is for the making eyes, it's "Paradise By The Dashboard Light"
B12 is for the speeders and D4 is for the lovers
And the hard drugs are for the bartenders and the kitchen workers and the bartender's friends
And they're playing it again