that hotel corridor

the static electricity and the hair on your suit stands on end

which door leads to that

a hundred guitars you played

as you playing the song over and over

as you scream and glide through every tonight

on the bus in the darkness the road sings not far from your head

at the party a blonde held your hand who smelt of distant storm

in houston on a rooftop as a lightning struck

and you were running through a vineyard in the rain

and it was summer in western australia and the rain was warm

and you ate grapes with a roadie marvelling at their deliciousness

and you were in some town in winter hurtling through ice to a gig

and you were singing and signing and eating your lunch

you were young and old

you were going mad

you were breaking down

you were exhausted

running along

down a basement in asbury park playing in a bar

afterwards in a huge lonely dark hotel it was quiet

man the dips and the flips

getting on a train to seattle all loaded on the track

in vienna in a garden drinking orange juice

in italy i rode on the back of some dusky girls vespa

in london i sat in a cab glumly searching for smack

in eden i was digging some cool snaky jazz on my apple man

in paris nobody cared and nor did i

i was on my own with this big big band

i rocked and i rolled it was slow and fast

bam bam boom boom i learnt my bass

i heard the drum and go boom bam boom in time

years later i playing in some big industrial town

we got lost coming in an argument ensued

when i got to the gig i had eaten some hash

i guess someone gave it to me in spain

or maybe amsterdam i was down in this lane

and in hamburg the guy on the desk said what do you need

he opened his coat he had everything

but the lights were too bright

the musics so loud

im drowning in crowd

im going under

i wave my arms

its alright

its showbiz

you gotta keep your eye on the prize

dont ya?