We played this dive in the village
somewhere on the edge,
during the breaks I'd hang outside
have a smoke, sitting on a ledge.
I watched the parade as it passed by
the junkies and hot-to-trot teens,
and it felt so right to be sharing the night
with angels, punks and raging queens
We played that gig for a long time
got to know some folks,
have them some change or took their cards
heard their schemes listened to their jokes.
Sometimes they'd stop and hear my song on route to their fabulous scenes,
and I still get laughs from old photographs
with angels, punks and raging queens.
Well I loved that time in the village
though I still don't know what it means,
matrons and whores, intillectual bores,
angels, punks and raging queens.
We passed that place like a phantom
and everything has changed,
that lousy dive is a sleek boutique
prorities rearranged.
I long for the mix of the bad old days
the ball gowns and torn up jeans.
And I sing this song,
for the souls who have gone,
sweet angels, punks and raging queens. Ooh-ooh...

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