Tekster:
Billy Joel 12 Gardens Live

far away from the door If there's a chance of it opening up They hear a voice in the hall outside And hope that it just passes by Some people live

met as soul mates on Parris Island We left as inmates from an asylum And we were sharp, as sharp as knives And we were so gung ho to lay down our lives

of the night Passes on her Painful information Then these careless fingers They get caught in her vice Til they're bleeding On my coffee table Living

I used to be But I'm old enough to say I got a good look at the other side I know we got to work real hard, maybe even for the rest of our lives But

I can't sell no stripers And there's no luck in swordfishing here I was a bayman like my father was before Can't make a living as a bayman anymore,

track him down And it served his legend well For the folks they'd love to tell 'bout when Billy the Kid came to town Well one cold day a posse captured Billy