I was cruisin' in my Stingray late one night When an XKE pulled up on my right. He 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 running fine Let's come of the line, now, at Sunset and Vine But I'll go ya one better, if you've got the nerve Let's race all the way ... to Deadman's Curve"
CHORUS: Deadman's Curve--is no place to play Deadman's Curve--you best keep away Deadman's Curve--I can hear them say You won't come back from Deadman's Curve
The street was deserted late Friday night, We were buggin' each other as we sat out the light We both popped the clutch when the light turned green You shoulda heard the whine from my screamin' machine I flew past La Brea, Schwabs, and Crescent Heights And all the Jag could see were my six tail lights He passed me at Doheny and I started to swerve But I pulled it out and there we were: At Deadman's curve
(SPOKEN) 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 found out for myself that everyone was right: