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Asphalt Jungle

de James Clarke

Let me tell you 'bout Wayne
and his deals of cocaine
a little more every day
holding for a friend till the band do well
then the d.e.a. locked him away

Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors
Bang bang, go the boots on the floor
Cry cry, for your lonely mother's son
Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors

An' I'll tell you 'bout Pete,
didn't want no fame
gave all his money away
"well there's something wrong, it'll be good for you, son"
and so they certified him insane

Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors
Bang bang, go the boots on the floor
Cry cry, for your lonely mother's son
Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors

And then there's Keith,
waiting for trial twenty-five thousand bail
if he goes down you won't hear his sound
but his friends carry on anyway, fuck 'em!

jail guitar doors
jail guitar doors
jail guitar doors
jail guitar doors
jail guitar doors
jail guitar doors
jail guitar doors
jail guitar doors

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