The dead girl mopes through a dead scene
With a cross-stitched lip she's picking at the seams
She's got bravado, she says she's been
Featured in a few magazines
Ah, ah
Now outside the bar Hank is straddling a police car
His fingers are purple and numb from circling a crowbar
Well twenty four years have made it clear
That things ain't ever what they appear
No, no
And he said I won't be going easily
No, I won't be going lightly
And I won't be going peacefully
No, I won't be going innocently
A sweet drink spiked with a speedball
A twenty foot ladder and a ninety foot wall
Dark shadows are gathering
And swaggering down the hall
Ah, ah
And I know I won't be going easily
I won't be going lightly
No, I won't be going peacefully
No, I won't be going cleanly