| This old town is filled with sin
|
| It’ll swallow you in
|
| If you’ve got some money to burn
|
| Take it home right away
|
| You’ve got three years to pay
|
| But Satan is waiting his turn
|
| This old earthquake’s gonna leave me in the poor house
|
| It seems like this whole town’s insane
|
| On the thirty-first floor, a gold plated door
|
| Won’t keep out the Lord’s burning rain
|
| The scientists say
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| It will all wash away
|
| But we don’t believe it any more
|
| 'Cause we’ve got our recruits
|
| And our green mohair suits
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| So please show your I.D. |
| at the door
|
| This old earthquake’s gonna leave me in the poor house
|
| It seems like this whole town’s insane
|
| On the thirty-first floor, a gold plated door
|
| Won’t keep out the Lord’s burning rain
|
| A friend came around
|
| Tried to clean up this town
|
| His ideas made some people mad
|
| Yet he trusted his crowd
|
| So he spoke right out loud
|
| But they lost the best friend they had
|
| This old earthquake’s gonna leave me in the poor house
|
| It seems like this whole town’s insane
|
| On the thirty-first floor, a gold plated door
|
| Won’t keep out the Lord’s burning rain
|
| On the thirty-first floor, a gold plated door
|
| Won’t keep out the Lord’s burning rain |