Tenderloin - Green On Red

Cop killer

Blood spiller

On the six o’clock news

Raises snakes

No lights on brakes, he’s got nothing to lose

Letter bombers

Starving farmers

Football team wins, yeah

Missing kids

And garbage lids

But there’s no connection, yeah

Pretty honey’s on TV

No more dreaming

It’s on the street

Mr. Johnson went and shot up his family on New Year’s Eve

Roll the dice

Don’t think twice

Because you just may be right

Take a trip

On her front lip

But don’t lick your eyes

Hurry, honey, I need your love

Strip the poor

In liquor stors and

Buddy, you got a dime?

My head is fuzzy

And my tongue’s lik a snake

I don’t remember my crime

No more movies

My brain’s a TV

Mr. Johnson went and shot up his family on New Year’s Eve

After five years, four apartments, three abortions, two cities, and a dog,

she left me.

Came off the long haul, sat out on back, she told me she was

unhappy with our relationship.

I hate that word.

I should have had a clue.

It’s awful.

The next day, I could only find new age music in the tape deck.

The '63 convertible had «for sale» sign on it.

She loved that car more than me.

I acted like a shot dog for a while.

Spent a weekend at the flop house and a

tenderloin in Little Saigon.

It wasn’t bad.

I had a color TV and liquor store

catty-cornered to each other of the bottom.

After a couple days,

the old Chinaman at Al’s Liquor and Deli let me get my own ice.

He said, 'Help yourself.

I can tell a gentleman when I see one.

' Well, I called a buddy of mine that week;

we shot pool with each other at

Route 101 Bar.

We couldn’t understand how a guy like me lost a girl like that.

I didn’t want to believe I was good enough for her, so she quit trying to

convince me.

Bought me a couple of shots, and didn’t ask any more questions.

I don’t like nosy people.

I went back to my room that day, and after downing

six beers watching the wind blow the litter on the street, I called her.

I told her to take her time and that I’d been a bad person and deserved to be

punished.

I told her I loved her and that I’d wait forever for her to take me

back.

She said 'I've been seeing someone, honey.

Don’t feel bad;

he’s nothing like you.

I don’t even love him.

He just makes me feel good.

Just a guy in a three-piece.'

Later that night, the TV illuminated the room,

so I gazed out the window.

Prostitutes were weaving down the street,

while their employers waited the evening’s profits.

Down in the back bar