One, two, three, four.
Well, they packed up their violet
cases with the finest artillery
Hopped in a big black
Studebaker,
they were acting pretty scary
And no one talked as they
synchronized their watches
An d drove past the train sta
tion
Well the train rolled out
with a passenger car
Filled with retired million
aires and booty
scars
Two twitching men clutching
six guns in their
But drenched coats with a fair,
safe, -up plan
And that would be
Aussie
Road
And the gangsters, cowboys,
gypsies, and freewheelers
Sold out their trains to be
come drug dealers
There ain't no money in
do ing things straight
No community thanks you,
business is good
Nice guys don't get out
side the train window
Fast as he could ride,
was a kid on a horse with a head full of lies
The tears of excitement could
put out fire in his eyes
For the house he was riding,
it's a burglar arise
And all through the house, they were dancing and singing,
an extended family of fiddlers
and magicians, a juggler and a chemist who would
invent a potion to pacify all the killers
For the cap tains died in the burglary
and they sold the prescription
For a case of cheap red wine
to a traveling salesman
In a three -wheeled jalopy he
bought and sold potions
To the city that looked over the ocean
And he sold the last drop,
it was big with the rich kids
To the city,
would be crawling with addicts
In back rooms, dark alleys,
basements and attics
Where the fly is trapped in the spiders
Where the bats got the
spiders
And no one knows what's going on
But you gotta show up for
yourself at the end of the day
And nice guys don't get paid
Nice guys don't get paid
Now all the hopeless romantics are
wearing white collars
Upstanding assassins,
clean hands filthy dollars
Hard jacket fanatics who kill for religion
In a city full of addicts and guns and amnesia