Like in crossroads She threw dice with the devil Or maybe it was God, or the moon Who knows what shows it's face On a Friday afternoon The house was quiet The tape recorder full of lies And a young girl, in desperate need of a piano Were stuck with her guitar Her only chip, was what her fingers possessed: Images stored in her hand "It might make the gods smile", she thought And put more than half her kingdom down She never asked for much: The ears to catch the breath of life The nerve to keep her head up high The knowledge of a voice, to have and to hold In return she would give The definition of herself Measured in gold, already bought and sold But she knew she had to sing to be able to live So one day she threw dice with the devil Or maybe it was God, or the moon Who knows what shows itself On a Friday afternoon And the demons smiled at her They came down, they wined and dined And they gave her what she craved But they didn't want what she had to give So they took her will instead One day she threw dice with the devil Or maybe it was God, or the moon Who knows what shows itself On a Friday afternoon