She says she's feeling woozy and she opens her eyes 
And tells me my stubble is scratching her thighs
And somebody's knocking at the cubicle door, 
Ah, I used to regret stuff but I don't anymore ...
And there's Kickass Jesus onstage 
And his drummer plays in a cage 
And there's heartbreak in the horns 
And fresh blood on the crown of thorns 
And they crank it up a gear 
And Jenny's sucking on another beer
"Is this man hassling you, honey-pie?" 
Asks some tall white rasta guy ......
“Baby, save me,” I said, grabbing her wrist 
Like I didn't know salvation don't really exist
And I pull her towards me, bury my face in her hair
But she heads for the back, up by the sound-desk 
somewhereÂ…..
The gig's all over in a feedback squall 
And I want to hold my woman, that's all,
But she pulls away from my hand 
She's going backstage to meet the band
And there's a party at a beach-house somewhere,
All that downtown crowd'll be there,
So I catch the train home alone, 
Blub my goodbyes to her answerphoneÂ….