Lots of folks back East, they say, is leavin' home every day, Beatin' the hot old dusty way to the California line. 'Cross the desert sands they roll
Pistol shots ring out in the barroom night Enter Patty Valentine from the upper hall. She sees the bartender in a pool of blood, Cries out, "My God,
to the ting You were reaching for Swing the groove 'round here Where I can reach it When I get my ass back on track I'm gonna need it Swing shift til
there's no place in this world where i'll belong when i'm gone. and i won't know the right from the wrong when i'm gone. and you won't find me singin
The sun is settin on the century And we are armed to the teeth We are all working together now To make our lives mercifully brief Schoolkids keep trying
