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Soul Asylum And The Horse They Rode In On Nice Guys, Don't Get Paid Well they packed up their violin cases Hopped in a big black Studebaker, they were acting pretty scary No one talked as they synchronized their watches And they drove past a train station The train rolled out with a passenger car Filled with retired millionaires and movie stars And the gangsters, cowboys, gypsies, and freewheelers Sold out their trades to become drug dealers There ain't no money in doing things straight Your community thanks you, business is good, and nice guys don't get paid Outside the train window fast as he could ride Was a kid on a horse with a head full of lies And the tears of excitement couldn't put out the fire in his eyes For the house he was riding to burglarize All through the house they were dancing and singing An extended family with fiddlers and magicians A juggler and a chemist who'd invent potion to pacify all the killers and rapist The chemist died in the burglary and they sold the prescription For a case of cheap red wine to a traveling salesman In a three-wheeled jalopy; he bought and sold potions To the city that looked over the ocean And he sold the last drop, it was big with the rich kids And soon the city would be crawling with addicts And back rooms, dark allies, basements and attics When a fly is trapped in a spider's web (but a bat's got the spider?) And no one knows what's going on But you've gotta show up for yourself at the end of the day And nice guys don't get paid Nice guys don't get paid Now all the hopeless romantics are wearing white collars Upstanding assassins cleaning filthy dollars Car-jacking fanatics who kill for religion In a city full of addicts and color television |
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