Lyrics:

Well, they blew up the chicken man in Philly last night
Now they blew up his house, too
Down on the boardwalk they're getting ready for a fight
Gonna see what them racket boys can do

Now there's trouble busing in from out of state
And the D.A. can't get no relief
Gonna be a rumble out on the promenade
And the gambling commission's hanging on by the skin of its teeth

Well now, everything dies, baby, that's a fact
Maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City

Well, I got a job and tried to put my money away
But I got debts that no honest man can pay
So I drew what I had from the Central Trust
And I bought us two tickets on that Coast City bus

Now, baby, everything dies, baby, that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City

Now our luck may have died and love may be cold
But with you forever I'll stay
We're going out where the sand's turning to gold
So put on your stockings, baby, 'cause the night's getting cold

And everything dies, baby, that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back

Now I been looking for a job but it's hard to find
Down here, it's just winners and losers and don't get caught on the wrong side of that line
Well, I'm tired of coming out on this losing end
So, honey, last night I met this guy and I'm gonna do a little favor for him

Well, I guess everything dies, baby, that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your hair up nice, fix yourself up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City