so you’re on the road again ... on Highway 21 ... you’d rather be on the West Coast on Highway 101 ... but you wouldn’t be so horny if she were 101 ... and you remember what it was like ... when you were out there having fun ... and she was stripped to the waist ... and wet in the sweat from the sun ... and your fingers didn’t burn ... what the Hell, Marco, crank out that funky swinging solo ... cos if you ain’t got someone to cry for, to fight for, to die for, you KNOW you’re just dead meat ... and, yeah, if you’re at the station and it’s four in the morning, at least you’re alive ... hey, those chicks are all 
crazy anyway ... (but you’ll always still love ’em ... won’t you?) ... and then that low LOW C on the bass reminds you of what your cojones are for ... oh my God, those swaying hips ... get her out of that hell-hole she’s in ... and back to Loveland ... where Rodrigo on the trumpet swaggers through the reverb, and she croons, “Uh uh” ... and it all clouds over and it kills you to remember what she did ... and what you did ... as DB said, it’s a criminal world ... how can we hurt ourselves so much? ... but it’s weird how, in the loneliest town, dreams CAN come true, and, as Martin’s sax soars even higher and Pino’s bass walks up and down your spine, you don’t want to come down ... and you know that, when the church bell rings out, you’re on the way to Heaven ... and the world has gone out of its tiny head ... ummm yeah ... the rage! ... and then the skies light up in a divine burst of electric guitar and soaring strings and Simon’s crashing toms ... and just when you think it can’t get more intense, yep, she’s walking out the door ... cos she knows ... she knows that it turns you on ... to cry, to fight, to die ... the game of fools ... and you’re always gonna come ... Smokey said it so perfectly with the way you do the things you do ... OK, so what IS in the box, Pan-or-Dora? ... yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s just fever ... and it’s jazz ... and it’s NO compromise ... and we all know about that! ... after all, how many hearts litter the trail of the age of consent? ... dance, sweet baby, dance!! ... “there’s some nice stuff on that” ... ha ha!!! ... hey, Alice, remember how it was? ... well, it’s just you and me tonight ... and we’re aching ... once again ... babe, for God’s sake, don’t look in the mirror ... just lock the key, throw the door away ... and don’t let tomorrow come ... please DON’T LET TOMORROW COME ... HOLD ME TIGHT!!! ... JESUS, HOLD ME TIGHT!!!!!! ... and while we’re dancing ... and while I’m whispering your name to the rooftop ... on this warmest of warm nights ... and while there’s people running, people hiding ... down there, in the street ... and the bombs ... and the flames ... the horror ... the horror ... who’s that guy playing scales on the piano? ... and who’s that chick laughing? ... and, for pity’s sake, who’s that whistling? ... when I know that he’s dead ... sorry ... I pushed the wrong buttons ... sorry ... I pushed the wrong ...
just believe in me and you, girl ...
and we just can’t stop
