I made the Spike about nine o'clock on a Saturday
All eyes hit me as I walked into the bar
The spikey leather guys were foolin with the denim 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 a-grinnin'
I snapped the smile off his face and snarled "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 there he was, saw me and knew that

I'd had too much, foolin' around
Statues alive, seconds are hours

Sex is like a hurricane it grabs and then it shatters
I was barely holding on to this fine body symphony
I guess I dream in pictures, not colors
The true free expression I demand is human rights - right?

I came the light, 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

Writer : TIPTON, GLENN RAYMOND/HALFORD, ROB
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing