The music was new
black polished chrome
And came over the summer
like liquid night.

The DJ's took pills to stay awake
and play for seven days.

They went to the studio
and someone knew him,
someone knew the TV showman.
He came to our homeroom party
and played records.
And when he left in the hot noon sun
and walked to his car,
we saw the chooks had written
F-U-C-K on his windshield.
He wiped it off with a rag
and smiling cooly drove away.

He's rich. Got a big car.

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