written by Jan Berry and Roger Christian. 1963. LYRICS: I was cruisin' in my Stingray late one night When an XKE pulled up on the right And rolled down the window of his shiny new Jag And challenged me then and there to a drag I said, "You're on, buddy, my mill's runnin' fine Let's come off the line now, at Sunset and Vine But I'll throw you one better if you've got the nerve Let's race all the way To Dead Man's Curve" Dead Man's Curve, it's no place to play Dead Man's Curve, you best keep away Dead Man's Curve, I can hear 'em say Won't come back from Dead Man's Curve The street was deserted late Friday night We were buggin' each other while we sat out the light We both popped the clutch when the light turned green You should of heard the whine from my screamin' machine I flew past LaBrea, Schwab's, and Crescent Heights And all the Jag could see were my six tail lights He passed me at Doheny then I started to swerve But I pulled her out and there we were At Dead Man's Curve Dead Man's Curve, it's no place to play Dead Man's Curve Well, the last thing I remember, Doc, I started to swerve And then I saw the Jag slide into the curve I know I'll never forget that horrible sight I guess I found out for myself that everyone was right Won't come back from Dead Man's Curve Dead Man's Curve, it's no place to play Dead Man's Curve, you best keep away Dead Man's Curve, I can hear 'em say Won't come back from Dead Man's Curve

Be the first to comment