Just another westside story   A California kid out to drink himself to glorious excess tonight   I'm dressed to fight, and maybe get my shit together if it sets just right      'Cause I've been walking like a hawk with too much on my mind   Staring at the clock and taking what I can find   To let the tension increase I need a tension release   To find some quiet for my head and not to mention some peace      So it's a no tie, bringing Y.O.B. affair   People getting stupid and forgetting their cares   It's just a Saturday scene, you know what I mean   I find some people in the crowd to stick myself in between      Soft-spoken, pot-smoking through the broken-down curls   But I never hit my stride with the southern-fried girls   This one's got a sun dress, the other's got pearls   Nice and easy on the eyes but never rocking my world      And now I'm homebound thinking 'bout a girl that I shouldn't   Start to write a letter though I told myself I wouldn't   Pine away for her, I'd pray for her, if I thought there was a God   Who'd let me stay with her      Did she get my last tape, did she think it was great   Did she kick herself again for not remaining my mate   Or did she throw it away, get on with her day   And cuddle up against a lover in the usual way      My eyes are wet, there's blood on the frets   And something's telling me that this is good as it gets   Until the next go-round, I've got to slow down   Or I'll be just another topic for the talk of the town      I got a brand new cell, but it's the same old hell   I'm just a walking sack of sorrow with a story to tell   But in a city of shit, who's got the patience to sit   And watch a broken-hearted emissary throwing a fit      The bile rising up in my throat's straight acidic   My record with the women like Ted's at Chappaquiddick   It's the wrong track, but you can never go back   And now I'm down and out the mission with a head full of flak      It's holding me upright, but making me uptight   And bouncing out my speakers so it's keeping me up nights   I'm broken in two but what the fuck can I do   I try to clear my mind but only find I'm thinking of you      'Cause while the lovers make love in moonlit parks   I'm drinking Heineken and playing with myself in the dark   I like to think that you're mine, and everything's fine   That I could take you home tonight and not be way out of line      My eyes are wet, there's blood on the frets   And something's telling me that this is good as it gets   Until the next go-round, I've got to slow down   Or I'll be just another topic for the talk of the town