Lyrics:

That's the tape that we made,
But I'm sad to say it never made the grade.

That was me, third guitar;
I wonder where the others are.

I sold the guitar today...
I never did play much anyway.

Vine Street.

We used to live there on Vine Street.
She made perfume in the back of the room
And me and my group, we'd sit out on the stoop
And we'd play for her the songs she liked best
To have us play, on Vine Street.

Vine Street, the crack of the backbeat on Vinestreet.
Swingin' along on the wings of a song
And I'll lie in, secure, self-righteous, and sure
Why we've things to say that the people would pay to hear us play, on Vine Street.