Well, they blew up the chicken man in philly last night Now, they blew up his house, too Down on the boardwalk they're gettin ready for a fight Gonna see what them racket boys can do
Now, there's trouble bustin in from outta state And the d.a. can't get no relief Gonna be a rumble out on the promenade And the gamblin commissions hangin on by the skin of his teeth
Well now, evrything dies, baby, that's a fact But maybe evrything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in atlantic city
Well, I got a job and tried to put my money away But I got debts that no honest man can pay So I drew what I had from the central trust And I bought us two tickets on that coast city bus
Now, baby, evrything dies, baby, that's a fact But maybe evrything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in atlantic city
Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold But with you forever I'll stay Were goin out where the sands turnin to gold Put on your stockins baby, `cause the nights getting cold And maybe evrything dies, baby, that's a fact But maybe evrything that dies someday comes backTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.