| Well, they blew up the Chicken Man in Philly last night
|
| And they blew up his house, too
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| Down on the boardwalk they’re ready for a fight
|
| Gonna see what them racket boys can do
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| Now there’s trouble busin' in from outta state
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| And the D.A. |
| can’t get no relief
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| Gonna be a rumble on the promenade
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| And the gamblin' commissioner’s hangin' on by the skin of his teeth
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| Everything dies, baby, that’s a fact
|
| But maybe everything that dies some day comes back
|
| Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
|
| And meet me tonight in Atlantic City
|
| Well, I got a job and I put my money away
|
| But I got the kind of debts that no honest man can pay
|
| So I drew out what I had from the Central Trust
|
| And I bought us two tickets on that Coast City bus
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| Everything dies, baby, that’s a fact
|
| But maybe everything that dies some day comes back
|
| Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
|
| And meet me tonight in Atlantic City
|
| Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold
|
| But with you forever I’ll stay
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| We’ll be goin' out where the sand turns to gold
|
| But put your stockings on, 'cause it might get cold
|
| Oh, everything dies, baby, that’s a fact
|
| But maybe everything that dies some day comes back
|
| Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
|
| And meet me tonight in Atlantic City
|
| Now I’ve been a-lookin' for a job, but it’s hard to find
|
| There’s winners and there’s losers and I’m south of the line
|
| Well, I’m tired of gettin' caught out on the losin' end
|
| But I talked to a man last night, gonna do a little favor for him
|
| Well, everything dies, baby, that’s a fact
|
| But maybe everything that dies some day comes back
|
| Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
|
| And meet me tonight in Atlantic City
|
| Oh, meet me tonight in Atlantic City
|
| Oh, meet me tonight in Atlantic City |