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Well, they blew up the chicken man in philly last night |
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Now, they blew up his house, too |
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Down on the boardwalk they're gettin' ready for a fight |
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Gonna see what them racket boys can do |
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Now, there's trouble bustin' in from outta state |
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And the d.a. can't get no relief |
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Gonna be a rumble out on the promenade |
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And the gamblin' commission's hangin' on by the skin of his teeth |
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Well now, ev'rything dies, baby, that's a fact |
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But maybe ev'rything that dies someday comes back |
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Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty |
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And meet me tonight in atlantic city |
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Well, i got a job and tried to put my money away |
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But i got debts that no honest man can pay |
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So i drew what i had from the central trust |
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And i bought us two tickets on that coast city bus |
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Now, baby, ev'rything dies, honey, that's a fact... |
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Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold |
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But with you forever i'll stay |
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We're goin' out where the sand's turnin' to gold |
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Put on your stockin's baby, `cause the night's getting cold |
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And maybe ev'rything dies, baby, that's a fact |
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But maybe ev'rything that dies someday comes back |
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Now, i been lookin' for a job, but it's hard to find |
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Down here it's just winners and losers and don't |
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Get caught on the wrong side of that line |
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Well, i'm tired of comin' out on the losin' end |
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So, honey, last night i met this guy and i'm gonna |
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Do a little favor for him |
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Well, i guess everything dies, baby, that's a fact... |
