Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold
But with you forever I'll stay
We're goin out where the sand is turnin to gold
Put on your stockins baby, `cause the nights getting cold
And maybe everything dies, baby, thats a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City.
Bruce Springsteen "Atlantic City"
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