The rainbow's dead end

Star-crossed junkie misfits on the run Some expensive wardrobe A car, a gun for fun They took her valise, a portmanteau Such a civilised way to go This must be the rainbow's dead-end Peel back that velvet rope and come inside There's Jungle Jim at Mr. Chow's With his mail-order bride The higher that monkey climbs that tree The more of his fat ass you'll see This must be... Bridge: If we get separated I'll meet you there In our little hideaway Our pied-a-terre Last year's model stranded in the bar With some NRA convention Itchy fingers Whiskey in the jar Through this gin palace Alice wander Absinthe makes this tart grow fonder This must be... Hotel, motel drifters one and all Lie like dead men down in rows Against the Bondi Beach sea wall The mirror smeared with wasted chance And nicotine stained romance This must be...