There's gotta be a record of you some place You gotta be on somebodys books The lowdown, a picture of your face Your injured looks
The sacred and profane The pleasure and the pain Somewhere your fingerprints remain concrete
And it's your face, I'm looking for On every street
A ladykiller, regulation tattoo Silver spurs on his heels Says, what can I tell you as I'm standing next to you She threw herself under my wheels
Oh, it's a dangerous road And a hazardous load And the fireworks over liberty explode in the heat
And it's your face, I'm looking for On every street
A three-chord symphony crashes into space The moon…
