Down in the New Jersey town of New
Brunswick
I got run down by a Mexican girl.
She drives as bad
as a New Jersey native.
Assimilation, she gave it a
whirl.
Blacker than night are the streets of New
Brunswick.
Mayor Jim Cahill don't get lights
replaced.
Drunkards they stumble down George Street's broad
sidewalk.
English or Spanish, they still are
disgraced.
One night a wild young frat boy came in
too
much beer, he's breaking wind...
Sloshing and staring, a drink he
was sharing
with hot young Marlena, the girl that I loved.
So in anger...
I challenged his right for the love
of this maiden.
You should have heard the bad words that he
swore.
He tried to get off the old vinyl barstool.
The
handsome young stranger passed out on the floor.
Just for a
moment, I stood there in silence.
Marlena said, "Mike, just look
what you've done."
I told her, "Honey, my fist never touched
him.
He was all filled up with Coors Light, the bum."
Out of the Golden Rail Pub did I run
to where my bicycle's
tied...
Unlocked the metal and slammed on the pedals
down
Easton Avenue's hill did I ride
Just as fast as I could
from the New Jersey town of New Brunswick
across the
bridge to fair quaint Highland Park.
Back in New Brunswick,
there's girls who are shirtless
in a sorority called
ZTA.
Short for the Greek letters Zeta Tau Alpha
it's known as
"Zits..." I must go, what the hey.
I get my helmet and ride
toward the bridge
across the old Raritan...
Maybe tonight a
young vixen will find me
and tell me through boozy lips that I'm
her man.
And at last, here...
I am on the bridge overlooking New Brunswick.
I see the New York train rumbling across.
I pedal off to the Union Street frat homes.
I'll show those Greek nasty geeks who is boss.
Off to my right I see five drunken
frat boys.
Off to my left are a dozen, oh shucks.
Run to the
trailers on old College Av'nue.
Eat a Fat Koko from Abdul's
grease trucks.
Something is dreadfully wrong for I feel
a
deep burning pain in my side...
It's not the frat boys, it's food
of the grease truck.
I'm feeling queasy, unable to
ride.
But my lust for the buxom young lasses of
Rutgers
pushes me on and I can't stop to rest.
I find a cute
one who's reading Scott Turow.
I feel my fingers go over her
chest.
From out of nowhere, her fist it has found me
sends
me right into the street on the fly.
Sends me into the path of
Campus Buses.
One gasp for air and now,
Michael...
Goodbye.