Stevie Nix Songtext
von The Hold Steady

And you came into the party with a long black shawl
And the guys in the front lawn are making jokes about the white swan
Some nights, we just need to get touched
And rub up against something plush
Some nights, it′s just a crush
Yeah, and some nights, it's bloodlust
She said, "We might use you later on
Meet me right back here around dawn"
And you came into the ER, drinking gin from a jam jar
And the nurse is making jokes about the ER being like an afterbar
You know you′re weak in the feet and I'm coming up from the streets
You're up in your loft getting shot
And I′m coming up the stairs and I′m coming from the streets
She said, "I love the guys you can't trust, meet me here about dusk"
Well, I was half dead, then I got born again
I got lost in all the lights, but it was okay in the end
And when we hit the Twin Cities, I didn′t know that much about it
I knew Mary Tyler Moore and I knew Profane Existence
I was keyed up, our keys jangled in the stalls
They counted money in the motels, they mostly sold it in the malls


And the carpet at the Thunderbird has a
Burn for every cowboy that got fenced in
She said, "You remind me of Rod Stewart when he was young
And you got passion and you think that you're sexy
And all the punks think that you′re dumb
The guys around the lockers get a story about the stomach pump
And the guys behind the theater
Who found a body in the garbage dump?"
She got screwed up by religion, she got screwed by soccer players
She got high for the first time in the camps
Down by the banks of the Mississippi River
Lord, to be seventeen forever
And she got confused about the truth and she came to in a confession
She got high for the last time in the
Camps down by the banks of the river
Lord, to be thirty-three forever
And she got screwed up by her vision, it was scary when she saw him
She didn't tell a single person about the
Camps on the banks of the Mississippi River
Lord, to be seventeen forever
She got strung out on the scene and she got scared when it got druggy
The way the whispers bit like fangs in the last hour of the party
Lord, to be thirty-three forever