I made a spike about nine o‘clock on a saturday.
All eyes hit me as i walked into the door.
Then stealin‘ (?) and then the guys were fooling in the demin dudes.
A couple cards played rough stuff, new york, fire island.
I cased the joint, straining at the scenes.
I moseyed up to the counter and the tender came grinning.
I snapped the smile off his face and scowled give me a bourbon!
The mirror on the wall was collecting and reflecting.
All the heavy bodies ducking, stealing eager for some action.
The scene screwed me up, i saw some contact.
Then the big boys saw me and knew that.
I‘d had too much, floating around.
Statues alive, seconds are hours.
Solo (glenn)
Sacks like a hurricane, wrapped in and shattered.
I was barely holding on to this flying body symphony .
I guess i dream in pictures, not colors.
The true free expression i demand is human rights - right.
I gave my life, i am immortal.
I‘m going, no loss
I‘m going, no loss
I‘m going, no loss
I‘m going, no loss
Nightmare, just a bunch of goddamn, rotten, steaming... raw deal!