Leaving Las Vegas

"We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like, "I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive. . . " And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming: "Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?' Then it was quiet again.

-Hunter S. Thompson

So let's say you are going to write a song about Las Vegas, a city that symbolizes all that is wrong with our society: over abundance, show biz and the pursuit and obsession of getting something for nothing, but where millions still make the pilgrimage.

Life springs eternal. On a gaudy neon street. Not that I care at all. I spent the best part of my losing streak in an Army Jeep. For what I can't recall.

You might start out by writing an allegory about Elvis who represents what Vegas is about. Here was the king of rock and roll, king of rebellion, who went military, came back a drugged out, sell out and ended up in Vegas, a lounge act with fans coming to see him by closing their eyes and pretending he still was what he was once.

Oh I'm banging on my TV set and I check the odds. And I place my bet. Pour a drink and pull the blind. And I wonder what I'll find.

You might also use Vegas as a setting for escape, for leaving all the horrible, haunted past behind to find a new beginning, a place where your sins are unforgiven.

Leaving Las Vegas lights so bright. Palm sweat, blackjack on a Saturday night. Leaving Las Vegas, leaving for good.

So now you've got your song written, your CD is doing well, and it's time to make the video. Arty but with a touch of fun is the tone you strive for. Like life it begins in color, but as the memories begin, the dreams drift in, it turns to black and white. A shrine to Wayne Newton, flying Elvises, karate kicking Elvises, showgirls showing plenty in the sand, sleazy dealers, Joshua trees. Driving away, driving away. Accessible? Who can't relate, so many have been through the same.

I'm standing in the middle of the desert waiting for my ship come in. But no joker, no jack, no king can take this losing hand and make it win .

One man's trip, one person's fall? What have you jarred loose? Just another hard luck story. About dreams that die in the desert. Watching the dogs run wild. Bringing out the young, the only child. Watching time, counting a meter. The Big A, the debut of a one armed pitcher. One armed bandits and a mirror above the bed. Regretting all not said. A plastic ruler. Virginia Slims woman. Taking a shower on the balcony, pondering the fall. Molesting a security guard, a shoe on the shoulder bigger than the chip on the other. A speeding ticket, a false ID. A garden well hoed. Expert plant handler, fixing tomato soup and a pita. Dancing with Seniorita. A crowbar flies by, swinging a swing up to the sky, trying to fly. Samson and Delilah. Lost around Leviticus. Queen of hearts, a brand new start. That's the video I saw, that's the song I still hear.

Dealing blackjack until one or two such a muddy line between the things you want and the things you have to do.