It was a pretty big year for fashion  A lousy year for rock and roll  The people gave their blessing to crimes of passion  It was a dark, dark night of the collective soul  I was somewhere out on Riverside  By the El Royale Hotel  When a stranger appeared in a cloud of smoke  I thought I knew him all too well    He said, “Now that I have your attention  I got somethin’ I wanna say  You may not want to hear it  I’m gonna tell it to you anyway  You know, I’ve always liked you, boy  ‘Cause you were not afraid of me  But things are gonna get mighty rough  Here in Gomorrah-By-The-Sea”    He said, “It’s just like home  It’s so damned hot, I can’t stand it  My fine seersucker suit is all soakin’ wet”    And the hills are burning  The wind is raging  And the clock strikes midnight   In the Garden of Allah    “Nice car……  I love those Barvarians…….so meticulous  Y’know, I remember a time when things were a lot more fun around here  When good was good, and evil was evil  Before things got so………fuzzy  Yeah, I was once a golden boy like you  I was summoned to the halls of power in the heavenly court  And I dined with the deities who looked upon me with favor  For my talents; my creativity  We sat beneath the palms in the warm afternoons  And drank the wine with Fitzgerald and Huxley    They pawned a biting phrase  From tongues hot with blood  And drained their pens of bitter ink  Vainly reaching for the bottle full of empty Edens  Branded specially for the ones  Who had come with great expectations   To the perfumed halls of Allah  For their time in the sun    We were stokin’ the fires  And oilin’ up the machinery  Until the gods found out we had ideas of our own”    And the war was coming  The earth was shaking  And there was no more room  In the Garden of Allah    “Today I made and appearance downtown  I am an expert witness, because I say I am  And I said, ‘Gentlemen….and I use that word loosely…  I will testify for you  I’m a gun for hire, I’m a saint, I’m a liar  Because there are no facts, there is no truth  Just data to be manipulated  I can get you any result you like  What’s it worth to ya?  Because there is no wrong, there is no right  And I sleep very well at night  No shame, no solution  No remorse, no retribution  Just people selling t-shirts  Just opportunity to participate in the pathetic little circus  And winning, winning, winning’ “    It was a pretty big year for predators  The marketplace was on a roll  And the land of opportunity  Spawned a whole new breed of men without souls  This year, notoriety got all confused with fame  And the devil is downhearted  Because there’s nothing left for him to claim    He said, “It’s just like home  It’s so low-down, I can’t stand it  I guess my work around here has all been done”    And the fruit is rotten   The serpent’s eyes shine  As he wraps around the vine  In the Garden of Allah