She says she’s feeling woozy and she opens her eyes
And tells me my stubble is scratching her thighs
And somebody’s knocking at the cubicle door,
Ah, I used to regret stuff but I don’t anymore ...
And there’s Kickass Jesus onstage
And his drummer plays in a cage
And there’s heartbreak in the horns
And fresh blood on the crown of thorns
And they crank it up a gear
And Jenny’s sucking on another beer
"Is this man hassling you, honey-pie?"
Asks some tall white rasta guy ......
“Baby, save me,” I said, grabbing her wrist
Like I didn’t know salvation don’t really exist
And I pull her towards me, bury my face in her hair
But she heads for the back, up by the sound-desk
The gig’s all over in a feedback squall
And I want to hold my woman, that’s all,
But she pulls away from my hand
She’s going backstage to meet the band
And there’s a party at a beach-house somewhere,
All that downtown crowd’ll be there,
So I catch the train home alone,
Blub my goodbyes to her answerphone….
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