Joke About Jamaica

They used to think it was so cute

When she said "Dyer Maker"

All the boys knew it was a joke about Jamaica

She'd always find a ride back home from the bar

She used to feel so stupid

When they'd talk about the music

Born into every single tune

They used to hum against her lips

With their hands on her hips

They used to kiss in the car

Dancing days, houses of the holy

Hot-shot in the city in the middle of the prairie

Floating with the boys, with all her charms

At first the laugh, then the eyes

Then the touch-em-on-the-arm's

And the drinks, they'd never seem to cost money

And Saturday night was a runway

That extended into Sunday

And sometimes Monday

Back then it was beautiful

The boys were sweet and musical

The laser lights looked mystical

Messed up stuff felt magical

Girls didn't seem so difficult

Boys didn't seem so typical

It was warm and white and wonderful

We were all invincible

Tired eyes, trampled under foot

Dazed and confused

C-C-C-C-Cocaine blues

She hasn't got any eye contact tonight

The boys are getting younger

And the bands are getting louder

And the new girls are coming up

Like some white unopened flowers

She's pretty sure that that's where their power is

Back then it was unified

The punks, the skins, the greaser guys

Then one summer, two kids died

And one of them was crucified

Now it's so competitive

The sleeplessness and sedatives

I know it sounds repetitive

Every show can't be a benefit

We were kids in the crowd

Now we're dogs in this war

We were wasps with new wings

Now we're bugs in the jar

We were hot, soft and pure

Now we're scratched up in scars

We were counting cards

Now we eat in our cars

The boys in the band

They know they'll never be stars

Back then they were quite convinced

Firing and (?)

The front row girls were posturing

We were all imagining

And man, we had some massive nights

Some bashes and some bloody fights

Back before those two kids died