Two out of work models and a fashion slave try to dance away the Piccolo night.
The bartender poured herself another drink, while two drunks were watchin' the fight.
The champ went down, then he got up again, then he went out like a light,
Fightin' for the people.
But his timing wasn't right, the high rollin' people.
Takin' limos in the neon light, Las Vegas people.
Who came to see a Las Vegas fight, fightin' for the people.
There's a man in the window with a big cigar, says everything's for sale.
He had a house and a boat and a railroad car, the owner's gotta go to jail.
He acquired these things from a life of crime, now he's selling them to make bail.
He was rippin' off the people.
Sellin' guns to the underground, livin' off the people.
Skimmin' the top when there was no one around, tryin' to help the people.
Lose their ass for a piece of ground, a patch o' ground people.
He was dealing antiques in a hardware store but he sure had a lot to hide.
He had a back room full of the guns of war and a ton of ammunition besides.
Well, he walked with a cane, kept a bolt on the door with five pit bulls inside,
Just a warning to the people.
In case they might try to break in at night, protection from the people.
Selling safety in the darkest night, tryin' to help the people.
Get the drugs to the street all right, tryin' to help the people.
Well, it's hard to say where a man goes wrong, might be here and it might be there.
What starts out weak might get too strong, if you can't tell foul from fair.
But it's hard to judge from an angry throng of hands stretched up in the air,
The vigilante people.
Takin' the law into their own hands, the conscientious people. Hey.
Crackin' down on the drug lord and his bands, government people. Hey.
Confiscatin' all the dealer's land, the patch-of-ground people. Yay, yeah.
And then a new Rolls Royce and a company car they were racin' down the street.
Each one tryin' to make it to the gate before employees manned the fleet.
The trucks full of products for the modern home, were set to roll out into the street
Of ordinary people.
Tryin' to make their way to work, the downtown people.
Some are saints, and some are jerks, (that's me) everyday people.
Stoppin' for a drink on their way to work, alcoholic people.
Yay, Yeah, takin' it one day at a time!
Down on the assembly line, they keep puttin' the same things out.
The people today, they just ain't buyin', nobody can figure it out.
They try like hell to build a quality in, they're workin' hard without a doubt,
Ordinary people.
But the dollar's what it's all about, Lee Iacocca people.
But the customers are walkin' out, the nose-to-the-stone people.
Yeah, they look but they just don't buy, the patch o' ground people. Hey, hey, hey.
In a dusty town the clock struck high noon, two men stood face to face.
One wore black and one wore white, but of fear there wasn't a trace.
A hundred and eighty years later two hot rods drag through the very same place,
A half a million people
They moved in to pick up the pace, a factory full of people.
Makin' parts to go to outer space, a train load of people.
They were leavin' for another place, out of town people. Yeah, yeah.
Down at the factory, they're puttin' new windows in.
The vandals made a mess of things and the homeless just walked right in.
Well, they worked here once and they live here now, but they might work here again,
The ordinary people.
Because they're livin' in a dream, hard workin' people.
Just-don't-know-what-it-means-to-give-up people.
They're just like they used to be, patch o' ground people. Hey, hey.
Out on the railroad track, they're cleanin' ol' number nine.
They're scrubbin' the boiler down, she really is lookin' fine. (a beauty, that number nine)
Times'll be different soon, they're gonna bring her back on line,
Ordinary people.
They're gonna bring the good things back, hard workin' people.
They put the business back on track, the everyday people.
I got faith in the regular kind, patch o' ground people. Yeah, yeah.
Song By Neil Young
