typeracer

The midnight gang's assembled and picked a rendezvous for the night. They'll meet 'neath that giant Exxon sign that brings this fair city light. Man, there's an opera out on the Turnpike, there's a ballet being fought out in the alley, until the local cops, Cherry-Tops, rips this holy night. The street's alive as secret debts are paid, contacts made, they flash unseen. Kids flash guitars just like switchblades hustling for the record machine. The hungry and the hunted explode into rock 'n' roll bands. That face off against each other out in the street down in Jungleland.