[Exclude: polished, clean, studio quality] [Vocal style: Poetic, shouting, voice cracking on high notes] [Background: Constant analog tape hiss and room noise] [Half-spoken, rhythmic delivery] [Intro] [Feedback squeal. Drummer counts off: "One! Two! One-two-three-four!"] [Shout: "Check the guest list!"] [Verse 1] Down at 315, where the graffiti's on the soul — yeah Hilly’s at the door, taking his toll — (ugh) The smell of the dogs and the beer on the floor And a line of skinny kids stretching out the door — (c'mon!) Patti’s in the back room, writing on the wall Television’s playing, waiting for the fall — (whoa) The Ramones are in the van, counting out the beat The sound of the revolution coming off the street — (play it!) [Chorus] [Anthemic but messy] We’re the stars of the gutter, yeah! Subway poets with a stutter, huh! From the Bowery to the Max’s, we’re the kings of the night Everything’s ugly but it’s looking so bright Oh — CBGB, c'mon! Oh — the only place I wanna be — (yeah!) [Verse 2] Dee Dee’s got a secret, Joey’s got a cold — (so what?) Better stay young 'cause we’re never getting old — (nah) A leather jacket summer and a garbage bag winter Watching every ego start to crack and splinter — (crack!) [Bridge] [Instrumental break: Raw, fast guitar chords and a messy drum solo] [Shouted names: "Stiv! Debbie! Richard! Johnny! All my friends!"] [Final Chorus] [Anthemic but messy] We’re the stars of the gutter, yeah! Subway poets with a stutter, huh! From the Bowery to the Max’s, we’re the kings of the night Everything’s ugly but it’s looking so bright Oh — CBGB, c'mon! Oh — the only place I wanna be — (yeah!) [Outro] [Guitar feedback turns into a low hum] [Spoken: "Is the set over? I need a drink..."] Yeah... 315... [Sound of a beer bottle breaking] [End]
