She spit and stomped, and something in me broke
Melodies drawling unashamed, sweet and ragged
Like angels around the throne

He prowls the crowded living-room floor
Squalls and screams commanding:
Get right or get gone!

Nineteenth Street throbbed to the art of storytelling
The Atlanta boys broke it down. We, from every side of town
So wild, so together, so grown

Don’t you tell me, “It’s only rock’n’roll.”
When I’ve seen it wrestle truths from noise
Save my life!

Don’t you tell me, “It’s only rock’n’roll,”
When I’ve seen it rejoice in the borderlands
Save my life!

Fingering the blade, licking the bottle’s lip
I grow still at the warbling voice in the tape:
Beauty hissing from a hurt untold

She sang like she talked, played like she burned
We looked at our handiwork
Fistfuls of dirt spraypainted gold
When these words grow stale and crumble in my mouth
Will I lean back and ride the beat?
Truth is hard to touch, and still harder to hold

Don’t you tell me, “It’s only rock’n’roll,”
When I’ve seen it pull wisdom from nasty mouths
Save my life!

Don’t you tell me, “It’s only rock’n’roll,”
When I’ve seen it spit patois like fire
Save my life!

Don’t you tell me, “It’s only rock’n'roll,”
When I’ve seen it anoint mildewed basements as sanctuaries
Save my life!