Certain Songs

Guess you're old enough to know

Kids out on the east coast

Roughly twenty years old

They got coaxed out by a certain perfect ratio

Warm beer to the summer smoke

And the Meat Loaf to the Billy Joel

Certain songs, they get so scratched into our souls

She goes low on the seats when she gets high in her car

She looks shallow, but she's neck deep in the steamy dreams of the guys along the harbor bars

She's pulling out her shirttails and she's jacking up her socks

Stern and stoned and confident, coming up towards the jukebox

Born into the only songs that everybody finally sings along

B-1 is for the good girls, and it's "Only The Good Die Young"

C-9 is for the making eyes, and it's "Paradise By The Dashboard Light"

B-12 is for the speeders

And D4 is for the lovers

And the hard drugs are for the bartenders and the kitchen workers and the bartender's friends

And they're playing it again

And Ellen Foley gives 'em hope

And certain songs, they get scratched into our souls

I guess you're old enough to know

Kids out on the west coast are taking off their clothes

Screwing in the surf and going out to shows

They get high and they ride around in GTOs

Certain songs, they get so scratched into our souls

Certain songs, they get so scratched into our souls