The first time we flew it
It was ? and crampedThe vodka running out half-way across the Atlantic
Even the steward screamed and joined in itWe didn't think we were going to make it
Now we're stretched out in wide, furry seats
Flicking through menusA walk to the bar and there's as much screw-top champagne as we can drink
We're so easyTaking turns having our photos taken
Sitting in front of smoked windowsDecanters of cheap whiskey in our hands
Drive into Manhattan on a date with a starlet who's just talent
That's what people pay the money to seeWho are we to argue?Five hours now it's been going on
And still we're watching all of itCan you really believe all this?
Can he really lie in bed at night and marvel at his own genius?When do you lose the ability to step back
And get a sense of your own ridiculousness?
They're only songs
Midnight, and it's all overNow it can really make us laugh
We're standing on our heads drinking sours of crystal schnapps
Now we're unable to step back or step forwardSwallowing a swallow
Tasting it again, it's not so unpleasantPerhaps it's an acquired taste
The first time, it makes you sick
Then, bit by bit, it becomes deliciousShowbiz people
Always there to be interested in what you sayWe are artists; we are sensitive and important
We nod our heads earnestlyAlready half-way down the champagne
On our way to leaving the place dry
A $2,000 bar billShowbiz picks up the tab
And we're on our way laughing
Laughing at what?
Los Angeles, eight days in
And our sense of irony's running pretty thinAll the friends we've made
Piano interlude not transcribed this time, sorry, just improvise
It's 2 am, it's closing time at the dresdenMarty and Layton play one last sleepy strangers in the nightAnd the last of the martinis dribble down our chinsWe're sitting, chasing the conservation around the tableJesus, how long have I been in this state?The limousine's still waiting outsideAnything you want to do?Anywhere you want to go?We're on our way to the airport and a plane to Vegas
So many nights lying in bed shaking
Dreaming of pushing my daughter around the supermarket
The joy of seeing all those colors and shapes reflect in her wide eyes
My head leaning on the window
And we're driving through the empty l.a. streets
And everything seems silent and beautifulA guy's face hits the floor
Police revolvers glistening in the streetlight
Onto Melrose and lurching through a sea of Halloween transvestites
The flight's canceled, but it doesn't matter
We turn this corner to a way that takes us wherever
Up to sunset
We creep up the drive to the shattuck
The suite belushi died inOr the one Morrison hung out the window
Oh, I'll go for jim's
I would fancy a hotel window-hanging, myself, tonight, manStraight over to the mini-bar
Open the champagne -- one sip and it's left to wake up toAnyone hungry?
A team of uniformed waiters lay out an elaborate table for all us to ignore
Oh, the ironyHow we're used to living
Back in london on a cold Friday night
Do you want another drink?Well, I could try
Perhaps we could make it to the atlantic
600 yeards, twenty minutes later
We're pushing through the waiting crowd, all fish eyesAn exclusive door policyExclusively for arseholes
And tonight? well, a nod of our heads, and we're inside
Falling down the red, velvety stairs
Limbs flaying, hands searching for something to steady
Pick ourselves up, nothing broken
Just aches in the morningNo one seems to notice
I find a table, champagne arrivesI've been so drunk, I sit and look at you
We try and talk for the first time in a long timeDrunken confession
You shiver, it made you feel sick
We use the rent money to pay the bill
Bumping shoulders, we stumble out into Soho
Slipping over the sleeping bags
Shouting for taxis
Songwriters
STAPLES, STUART ASHTON / HINCHLIFFE, DICKON JAMES / BOULTER, DAVID LEONARD / FRASER, NEIL JOSEPH STEVEN / COLWILL, MARK ANTHONY STEPHEN / MACAULAY, ALISTAIRPublished by
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.