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…
