I was cruisin' in my Stingray late one night   When an XKE pulled up on the right   He rolled down the window of his shiny new Jag   And challenged me then and there to a drag   I said, "you're on, buddy, my mill's runnin' fine   Let's come off the line, now, at Sunset and Vine   But I'll go you one better if you've got the nerve   Let's race all the way   To Dead Man's Curve"      Dead Man's Curve, it's no place to play   Dead Man's Curve, you must keep away   Dead Man's Curve, I can hear 'em say:   "Won't come back from Dead Man's Curve"      The street was deserted late Friday night   We were buggin' each other while we sat out the light   We both popped the clutch when the light turned green   You shoulda heard the whine from my screamin' machine   I flew past LaBrea, Schwab's, and Crescent Heights   And all the Jag could see were my six taillights   He passed me at Doheny then I started to swerve   But I pulled her out and there we were   At Dead Man's Curve      Dead Man's Curve, it's no place to play   Dead Man's Curve      Well - the last thing I remember, Doc, I started to swerve   And then I saw the Jag slide into the curve   I know I'll never forget that horrible sight   I guess I found out for myself that everyone was right      "Won't come back from Dead Man's Curve"