You don’t need your name in bright lights
You’re a rock star
And some tin foil with a gla** pipe
Is your guitar – now yes it is
Little Angela
Suffers delusions
From these high times
She’s been cleaning up, since she was fourteen
On the main line
And her hunky funky junky, of a boyfriend
Got her on late nights, with her skirt tight
Woah, she’s a wild thing
Letting it all swing
God bless our high times
Don’t you know that last night
Turned to daylight
And a minute, became a day
Last night (last night)
All my troubles
Well they seemed so, so far away
Searching my reflection
For a glimpse of, another me
I’ve got to get away from all these high high times
‘Cause these high times are k**ing me