In a bedroom locked
In whispers of soft refusal and then surrender
In the tunnels uptown the Rat's own dream guns him down
As shots echo down them hallways in the night
No one watches when the ambulance pulls away
Or as the girl shuts out the bedroom light
Outside the street's on fire in a real death waltz
Between flesh and what's fantasy
And the poets down here don't write nothing at all,
They just stand back and let it all be
And in the quick of a knife they reach for their moment
And try to make an honest stand
But they wind up wounded, not even dead
Tonight in Jungleland...
~ Bruce Springsteen ~
"Death is not the only way to lose someone you love."