Lyrics

Like mythic gods
the rusty Ford it rattled in the night.
One tail light out Apple Avenue.
Then on down to Hilton Park.
Raisin' hell they rolled the car,
lighting matches in the dark.

Sunday morning I was crashing down.
Sunday morning no one was around.
They all walked away;
I can hear them say ------

They combed their hair, just perfect.
Their pointed shoes - heels sparking in the night,
as they flipped off cars on Apple Avenue,
stealing panties off the line.
Oh, Ramona - she was fine;
gettin' drunk on homemade wine.

Sunday morning I was crashing down.
Sunday morning no one was around.
They all walked away;
I can hear them say ------

Gotta move, gotta get on down the line.
Gotta move, 'cause we're runnin' out of time.

Cat in the birdcage.
They cut off Johnny's legs.
Things got a little vague.
We fried up all the eggs.

Sunday morning I was crashing down.
Sunday morning no one was around.
They all walked away;
I can hear them say ------