The Dead End

Alert and alive in the dead of the night

He's got a gun in the glove box, and pictures of his wife

Another lost tale, a spark bound to ignite

You see, money's the god in this neon paradise

And if you're a pagan you just won't survive

He's known this too well throughout his whole life

Overworked, spat on, he's tasted the grime

Now his eyes are glued to the blinding headlights

Maybe the third wrong could make a right

He takes a deep breath

It's going down...

Tonight