"Quick while she turns her back, slip it in"

I’m in a meat-pack plant by the gutterside
A slaughterhouse apartment with a slice of lime
I’m cruisin’ with the bruisers, boozin’, I’ll be a suitor, losing my mind
Because there’s nothing to find

The fetid stench of bad intentions hangs in the sweat
I’m in a sauna hot with drama and I’m tryin’ to forget
All the masochistic rapture mis-steps
Imminent pleasure’s ready to cut. To the bone

[Chorus]
You said “let loose!” But now you’re lost
While I tied my boots like a tightrope noose
The problem chased the taste of the cause
While the evidence supports the truth. Is 80 enough proof for you?
Here’s to my lady and I’m coming inside
Drink to me baby, and what’s left of what’s right
It’s easier to use and lose than never to have used you
On a fucked up Saturday night. Good times on Front Street


Loose lips sink ships, but captain, will you go down?
Float your boat and overboard and hoping to drown
Tell me what prevented you from coming downtown all alone
Because we know you’re not afraid

This chastity is Greek to me, the meat is still fresh
The gnashing teeth will masticate the bones from the flesh
Since nobody will tell me where these bastards go, I’ll see for myself
I think they might go to hell

[Chorus]

LAST CALL FOR MORALS
BETTER COVER YOUR DRINK
SODOM AND GOMORRA’D
LET IT GO DOWN THE SINK

Good times on Front Street