If you're kind for dusty highways and suchnBe alright to look her upnThe faded priestess of the highways and crutchnCalling when you’re down on lucknBy the disused railroad road station you gonTo the house of dirty pearlnHer existential situation you knownShe is not like other girlsnnShe may ask you, “Do you believe?”nYou can’t stay, though you’ll never leavennSee the sapphire in the skylines so bluenSee the diamond in the dirtnWhen you think the subject won’t turn to younShe got demons up her skirtnIt isn’t sure of her reflection at allnIs seduced by all things pastnA pleasure-seeker of dejectionnGazing into her looking glassnnShe may ask you what you believenBut the mirror doesn’t see mennSaturday's gone, saturday's gonenSaturday's gone, saturday's gonennShe may ask you, “Do you believe?”nYou can’t stay, though you’ll never leavennSaturday's gone, saturday's gonenSaturday's gone, saturday's gonennNow a sundown comes, a new day for hernTired of dress and leave the groundnYou'd be a fool to ask her to lift you upnWhy go up when you go down?nIf you should tire of ties that bind younFilmed on fever leaves so fastnYou got trouble far behind younWell knows nothing's made to lastnnHear how God sees a lion roarnWatch the serpent crossing the floornnSaturday's gone, saturday's gone...