Well it's the same old Thoughts on the counter That stay cold after an hour The power of bottles and cans When do the answers arrive? The lanterns glow is blinding While the banters roar is thriving With the same old confrontation It seems we might be alive A free man Makes his way to the wet land Where the music rings in the Warm air that dances around him Will he go home alone? They're all there For a night of jiving in the hot air But there's no hiding when All that rhythm ceases to live Who turned out the lights? ...—...