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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Bob Weir
Vocals
Phil Lesh
Bass Guitar
Bill Kreutzmann
Drums
Mickey Hart
Drums
Jerry Garcia
Lead Guitar
Brent Mydland
Keyboards
Bob Bralove
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Dan Healy
Additional Engineer
David Roberts
Additional Engineer
Jeff Sterling
Additional Engineer
Jeffrey Norman
Additional Engineer
Justin Kreutzmann
Additional Engineer
Guy Charbonneau
Engineer
John Cutler
Producer
Billy Grillo
Equipment Technician
Jerry Garcia
Producer
Joe Gaswirt
Additional Engineer
Lyrics
Well I was drinkin' last night with a biker
And I showed him a picture of you
I said, "Pal get to know her, you'll like her"
Seemed like the least I could do.
Cause when he's chargin' his chopper
Up and down your carpeted halls
You won't think it by contrast quite proper
Never mind how I stumble and fall.
You imagine me sipping champagne from your boot
For a taste of your elegant pride
I may be going to hell in a bucket, babe
But at least I'm enjoying the ride, at least I'll enjoy the ride.
Aw you're a sweet little softcore pretender
Somehow, baby got hard as it gets
With your black leather chrome spiked suspenders
And your chair and your whip and your pets
Well we know you're the reincarnation
Of the ravenous Catherine the Great
And we know how you love your ovations
To the Z-rated scenes you create.
You imagine me sipping champagne from your boot
For a taste of your elegant pride
I may be going to hell in a bucket, babe
But at least I'm enjoying the ride, at least I'll enjoy the ride.
You analyze me, attempt to despise me, you laugh
When I stumble and fall
There may come a day, I will dance on your grave
If unable to dance I will crawl across it
Unable to dance I will crawl
Unable to dance I'll crawl.
You must really consider the circus
It just might be your kind of zoo
I can't think of a place that's more perfect
For a person as perfect as you.
And it's not like I'm leaving you lonely
Cause I wouldn't know where to begin
Well I know you will think of me only
When the snakes come marching in.
You imagine me sipping champagne from your boot
For taste of your elegant pride
I may be going to hell in a bucket, babe
But at least I'm enjoying the ride, at least I'm enjoying the ride.
Ride, ride, ride
Ride, ride, ride
Ride, ride, ride
At least I'm enjoying the ride.
At least I'm enjoying the ride.
AT LEAST I'LL ENJOY THE RIDE.
Writer(s): John Barlow, Bob Weir, Brent Richard Mydland
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com