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I made a spike about nine o'clock on a Saturday.
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All eyes hit me as I walked into the door.
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Then stealin' (?) and then the guys were fooling in the demin dudes.
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A couple cards played rough stuff, New York, fire island.
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I cased the joint, straining at the scenes.
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I moseyed up to the counter and the tender came grinning.
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I snapped the smile off his face and scowled "Give me a bourbon!"
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The mirror on the wall was collecting and reflecting.
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All the heavy bodies ducking, stealing eager for some action.
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The scene screwed me up, I saw some contact.
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Then the big boys saw me and knew that.
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I'd had too much, floating around.
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Statues alive, seconds are hours.
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SOLO (Glenn)
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Sacks like a hurricane, wrapped in and shattered.
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I was barely holding on to this flying body symphony .
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I guess I dream in pictures, not colors.
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The true free expression I demand is human rights - right.
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I gave my life, I am immortal.
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I'm going, no loss
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I'm going, no loss
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I'm going, no loss
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I'm going, no loss
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Nightmare, just a bunch of goddamn, rotten, steaming... Raw Deal!
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-----------------
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Call For The Priest / Raw Deal
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| Judas Priest |
