Friday night is fight night in the citynseven mothers grab your shining boxing gloves nyou will need 'em, to defeat 'emnwho will take the gold picking and the betting (?)nbright lights and fist fights bring the attendance upnit's so trendy on the marqueennand I will wai-ai-ait if there's anything left to tell me (don't tell me)nwell I'm sorry darling you have crossed the linenand I will wai-ai-ait if there's anything left of menI'll show you all the doctor's my eyes can't denynnI will throw the fight I swear to Jesusnclearly head inside the main offense tonightnshe believed him, cause he's bleedingntongue-tied in the ninth round of contentionnour fair lady wins a no contesting boutnwith a hand gun, to a loved onennand I will wai-ai-aitnif there's anything left just tell me (don't tell me)nthat everything is gonna be just finenand I will wai-ai-aitnif there's anything left of menI'll give you anything you need of me to make this rightnnand I will wai-ai-ait if there's anything left don't tell menthat everything is going to be all right, nonand i will wai-ai-aitnif there's anything left behind don't tell mencause this time everything will not be fine