Текст песни: Stevie Nix + перевод

You came into the party with a long black shawl

And the guys from the front lawn were making jokes about the white swan

Some nights we just need to get touched and rub up against something plush

Some nights it’s just a crush

Yeah, and some nights it’s blood lust

She said we might use you later on

Meet me right back here around dawn

You came into the ER drinking gin from a jam jar

And the nurse is making jokes about the ER being like an after bar

You know you’re weak and effete and I’m coming up from the streets

You’re up in your loft getting soft

And I’m coming up the stairs and I’m coming from the streets

She said I love the guys you can’t trust

Meet me here about dusk

I was half dead

Then I got born again

I got lost in all the lights

But it was okay in the end

And when we hit the twin cities

I didn’t know that much about it

I knew Mary Tyler Moore

And I knew Profane Existence

I was keyed up

Our keys jangled in the stalls

They counted money in the motels

They mostly sold it in the malls

And the carpet at the Thunderbird

Has a burn for every cowboy that got fenced in

She said you remind me of Rod Stewart when he was young

You’ve got passion and you think that you’re sexy

And all the punks think that you’re dumb

The guys around the lockers got a story about the stomach pump

And the guys behind the theater

Found a body in the garbage dump

She got screwed up by religion

She got screwed by soccer players

She got high for the first time at the camps down by the banks of the

Mississippi River

Lord, to be seventeen forever

And she got confused about the truth

And she came to in a confession

She got high for the last time in the camps down by the banks of the river

Lord, to be thirty-three forever

And she got screwed up by her vision

It was scary when she saw him

She didn’t tell a single person about the camps on the banks of the Mississippi

River

Lord, to be seventeen forever

She got strung out on the scene

And she got scared when it got druggy

The way the whispers bit like fangs in the last hour of the party

Lord, to be thirty-three forever

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