I made a spike about nine o'clock on a Saturday
All eyes hit me as I walked into the door
And seeing other guys were fooling with the demin dudes
A couple cards played rough stuff, New York, fire island

I moseyed up to the counter and the tender came a-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

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

Sacks like a hurricane, wrapped in and shattered
I was barely holding on to this crying bawdy symphony
I guess I dream in pictures, not in colors
The true free expression I demand is human rights - right

I'm going, no loss
I'm going, no loss
I'm going, no loss
I'm going, no loss