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Desmond Myers
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Vegas Atlantic
Some say this is the place where Tom Dooley hanged
No child wanders once the bell has rang
And time puts on her jacket of dark green
The hour wipes its hands of autumn leaves
Above the teenagers out rolling schemes
They only dream of escaping Vegas
Vegas Atlantic
Hardly an anecdote of life
As is read
As is seen
Still it's fascinating
Life in this desert of action
Every heart beats slow and in vain
Like they're sleeping in their graves
Friday night
Lucy's a cosmopol with big black eyes
She wields a pen of gold that's none too shy
Slave to the Gods of Broad Street
The storm calls a new commission from her broken heart
She packs the Volvo full of English post cards
Makes her escape from Vegas
Vegas Atlantic
Hardly an anecdote of life
As is read
As is seen
Still it's fascinating
Life in this desert of action
Every heart beats slow and in vain
Like they're sleeping in their graves
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Friday morning's scoreboard sports a big black eye
Saturday the lightning bugs sleep in and hide
They all wait for the night
They all wait for the night
Sunday morning's penny loafers come untied
Midday-Monday's dewdrops still have yet to dry
They all wait for the night
They all wait for the night
Tuesday tells the teachers hold it out till five
Wednesday tells the werewolves not to be so shy
They all wait for the night
They all wait for the night
In vain
In vain
Cause they're sleeping in their graves
In vain
Vegas Atlantic
Hardly an anecdote of life
As is read
As is seen
Still it's fascinating
Life in this desert of action
Every heart beats slow and in vain
Like they're sleeping in their graves
Like they're sleeping in their graves
Like they're sleeping in their graves
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