"Atlantic City" lyrics
(2024 Version)
(originally by Bruce Springsteen)
Well, they blew up a chicken man down in Philly last night
And they blew up his house too
Down on the boardwalk, they're ready for a fight
Gonna see what them racket boys can do
Now there's trouble busin' in from outta state
And the D.A. can't get no relief
There's gonna be a rumble on the promenade
And the gamblin' commissioner's hangin' on by the skin of his teeth
Everything dies, baby, that's a fact
Maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic city
Well, I got a job and I put my money away
But I got the kinda debt that no honest man can pay
So I drew out what I had from the central trust
And bought us two tickets on that coast city bus
Everything dies, baby, that's a fact
Maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic city
Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold
But with you, forever I'll stay
Then we're goin' out where the sand turns to gold
So put your stockings on 'cause it might get cold
Everything dies, baby, that's a fact
Maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic city
Oh, meet me tonight in Atlantic city
And they blew up his house too
Down on the boardwalk, they're ready for a fight
Gonna see what them racket boys can do
Now there's trouble busin' in from outta state
And the D.A. can't get no relief
There's gonna be a rumble on the promenade
And the gamblin' commissioner's hangin' on by the skin of his teeth
Everything dies, baby, that's a fact
Maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic city
Well, I got a job and I put my money away
But I got the kinda debt that no honest man can pay
So I drew out what I had from the central trust
And bought us two tickets on that coast city bus
Everything dies, baby, that's a fact
Maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic city
Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold
But with you, forever I'll stay
Then we're goin' out where the sand turns to gold
So put your stockings on 'cause it might get cold
Everything dies, baby, that's a fact
Maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic city
Oh, meet me tonight in Atlantic city
Writer(s): Bruce Springsteen
