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!