Well, they blew up the chicken man in Philly last night And they blew up his house, too Down on the boardwalk they're ready for a fight Gonna see what those racket boys can do
Now there's trouble busing in from out of state And the D.A. can't get no relief Gonna be a rumble on the promenade And the gambling commissioner's hanging on by the skin of his teeth
Everything dies, baby, that's a fact But maybe everything 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 I put my money away But I got the kind of debt no honest man can pay So I drew out what I had from the Central Trust And I bought us two tickets on that Coast City bus
Everything dies, baby, that's a fact But maybe everything 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 has gone cold But with you forever I'll stay We're going out where the sand turns to gold But put your stockings on, 'cause it might get cold
Everything dies, baby, that's a fact But maybe everything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Now I been looking for a job but it's hard to find There's winners and there's losers, and I'm south of the line Well, I'm tired of geting caught on that losing end But I talked to a man last night, gonna do a little favor for him
Everything dies, baby, that's a fact But maybe everything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in Atlantic City Oh, meet me tonight in Atlantic City Oh, meet me tonight in Atlantic CityTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.