The sun is up
And we're still here
Life drags on
No music here
Your house is just a little cliché
The Faustian decor
With room to spare
And the sunbursts
Within your hair
Your life is just a little risqué
And it gets a little
And it gets a little better
Just a little bit better
The hem is up
And the dress is down
I'll dress you up
And I'll dress you down
In this wasteland of intellect
You kick like a mule
While I soften you up
And you echo yourself
While we start from the top
Dead men can't drive, but they can sure as hell try
And it gets a little
And it gets a little better
Just a little bit better
And everything is silent
Now the final throes are done
We smoking final cigarettes
Before you'll up and run
I know that you were never here
There's no ashes in the tray
But if you never came
How come you're still going away
