After radio killed the video star, we couldn't really get much higher (which means that we probably didn't start the fire). So now we're on the road again, running down a dream (missed that stairway to heaven 'cause we were running with the devil). But anyway, we still think that we're bad to the bone and hard to handle; we must truly be the unforgiven (even though, as some of us are chasing what they think are Barbie girls where the boys are only to find out that the dude looks like a lady, we're actually somewhat behaving in the club at the end of the street).
And now the day is fading fast (exit light, enter night) and so we'd better be rolling down the river to the next city. As we roamed where we wanted to, looking for some place to eat, we found the Hotels California and Heartbreak off of Exit 29. We had our bus driver, Trigger Happy Jack, drive by a go-go to get to a good restaurant. And as we sat, sipping out pina coladas and eating our cheeseburgers in Paradise CafÃ© with Tootsie Rolls for desert, we wondered if we'd ever make it to Margaritaville. Then discussion changed to other topics like bloody Sunday, radio-free Europe, and what it would be like to live in a yellow submarine.
Finally, we decided to see a rocket man go into space. Eventually, we made it to the launch site, just in time. We watched the launch from all along the watchtower, and saw Major Tom enter the Crystal Ship to go to the moon and back. We then decided it was time to go back to sweet home Alabama, hoping our new bus driver (he said to just call him Al) knew the way home. Our main problem was to not worry, but be happy, about returning in time for school (especially since one of our number was hot for teacher). So we took the school blue and whipped them, just accepting that we'd have to wait until the next quarter break to rock the cazbah. The End.