Vārdi: The Hold Steady. Joke About Jamaica.

They used to think it was so cute
When she said "Dyer Maker"
All the boys knew it was a joke about Jamaica
She'd always find a ride back home from the bar

She used to feel so stupid
When they'd talk about the music
Born into every single tune
They used to hum against her lips
With their hands on her hips
They used to kiss in the car

Dancing days, houses of the holy
Hot-shot in the city in the middle of the prairie
Floating with the boys, with all her charms
At first the laugh, then the eyes
Then the touch-em-on-the-arm's
And the drinks, they'd never seem to cost money
And Saturday night was a runway
That extended into Sunday
And sometimes Monday

Back then it was beautiful
The boys were sweet and musical
The laser lights looked mystical
Messed up stuff felt magical
Girls didn't seem so difficult
Boys didn't seem so typical
It was warm and white and wonderful
We were all invincible

Tired eyes, trampled under foot
Dazed and confused
C-C-C-C-Cocaine blues
She hasn't got any eye contact tonight

The boys are getting younger
And the bands are getting louder
And the new girls are coming up
Like some white unopened flowers
She's pretty sure that that's where their power is

Back then it was unified
The punks, the skins, the greaser guys
Then one summer, two kids died
And one of them was crucified
Now it's so competitive
The sleeplessness and sedatives
I know it sounds repetitive
Every show can't be a benefit

We were kids in the crowd
Now we're dogs in this war
We were wasps with new wings
Now we're bugs in the jar
We were hot, soft and pure
Now we're scratched up in scars
We were counting cards
Now we eat in our cars
The boys in the band
They know they'll never be stars

Back then they were quite convinced
Firing and (?)
The front row girls were posturing
We were all imagining
And man, we had some massive nights
Some bashes and some bloody fights
Back before those two kids died