(Jan Berry / Roger Christian / Artie Kornfeld / Brian Wilson)
The street was deserted late Friday night
We were buggin' each other while we sat at the light
We both popped our clutch when that light turned green
You shoulda heard the whine from my screamin' machine
I flew past LaBrea, Schwab's 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 her out and there we were at Dead Man's Curve
Dead Man's Curve is no place to play
Dead Man's Curve, you'd best keep away.
Dead Man's Curve, I can hear them say:
Won't come back from Dead Man's Curve.
We'll 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 terrible sight
I found out for myself that everyone right.