From the recording Atlantic City (Single)
Written by Bruce Springsteen
Lyrics
Well, they blew up the chicken man in Philly last night
Now they blew up his house, too
Down on the boardwalk they're ready for a fight
Gonna see what them racket boys can do
Now there's trouble bustin' in from outta state
And the D.A. can't get no relief
Gonna be a rumble on the promenade
And the gamblin' commission's hangin' by the skin of it's teeth
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 tried to put my money away
But I got debts that no honest man could pay
I drew what I had from the central trust
And bought me and my girl two tickets on the Coast City bus
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 luck has died and love may be cold now
With you, forever I'll stay
We're goin' out where the sands turn to gold
But put your stockings on baby 'cause it night's getting cold
Everything dies, that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies some day comes back
Been lookin' for a job, but it's hard to find
See down here there's just winners and losers
Don't get caught on the wrong side of that line
I'm tired of coming out on this losin' end
So honey last night I met this guy and I'm gonna do a little favor for him
Cause I guess, everything dies, baby, that's a fact
Maybe everything that dies some day comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
All right