Tekster:
Majestic Twelve The Searching For The Elvis Knob

As the bars downtown exhale Into a street of blinking lights And you wander out alone into a crowd Of could-be sex and fights Wrap your coat real tight

Your parents, they warned you Against the kind of boy who parks your cars And has himself one hell of a nerve My momma, she says I shouldn't oughtta

silk Sure, the graveyard's full of money But all the epitaphs are lies So I'm doomed to walk the walls For Sweet Patrice

for home The wind starts to sprawl on the 21st morning The Luna starts to yaw, as the bosun's voice booms calling, "Pull boys, for our sons and our daughters

twenty miles Than stay here in this Chevrolet The drunken fool Behind this wheel Staggers and stumbles two thousand pounds Of Detroit factory steel The others there with him Just along for

with us Or you ain't livin' on the beach You got your lotion and your lawn chair You got your break from urban life You see the chance for relaxation