The Player

A cocktail dress was sent to her hotel room

Minutes before she arrived

The little white note that said "You will wear this well,

Should be just about your size."

"Meet the town car service curbside check in

Right at eight o'clock sharp,"

Back at home the screen door slams on the hinges

Just before it all goes dark

The birds outside of the window

Up on the penthouse floor

They don't ask any questions till daylight beckons

All night they sing "nevermore"

But for the smoke you could see him in his cigar light

A deal is going down

The best laid plans are when millions change hands

And someone gets run out of town

There is an ivory tower equation

Fortune loves his majesty

But hanging over his head by a horsehair thread

Is a sword only he can see

If it's a world where everything glitters

And no price is too high to pay

Consider those lips, blood red fingertips

Is it the player who's being played?