This old car smokes gasoline

With the lungs of an old prison choir

And their cheap cigarettes burn clean

Glowing red with heat from the fire

Ex-lovers will forget your name

Your rough and rowdy friends will settle down

The needle points toward the other place

That bright green field where Saint Peter drowned

Last words ring on the radio

Static strangles the record scratch

Somewhere out there sings Frankie Sinatra

Let’s face the music and dance