The first time we flew it

It was cheap and cramped



The vodka running out half-way across the Atlantic

Even the steward screamed and joined in it



We didn't think we were going to make it

Now we're stretched out in wide, furry seats

Flicking through menus



A walk to the bar and there's as much screw-top champagne as we can drink

We're so easy



Taking turns having our photos taken

Sitting in front of smoked windows



Decanters 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 see



Who are we to argue?



Five hours now it's been going on

And still we're watching all of it



Can 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 over



Now it can really make us laugh

We're standing on our heads drinking sours of Crystel Schnapps

Now we're unable to step back or step forward



Swallowing a swallow

Tasting it again, it's not so unpleasant



Perhaps it's an acquired taste

The first time, it makes you sick

Then, bit by bit, it becomes delicious



Showbiz people

Always there to be interested in what you say



We are artists; we are sensitive and important

We nod our heads earnestly



Already half-way down the champagne

On our way to leaving the place dry

A $2,000 bar bill



Showbiz 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 thin



All the friends we've made

piano interlude not transcribed this time, sorry...just improvise

It's 2 am, it's closing time at the Dresden



Marty and Layton play one last sleepy "Strangers in the Night"



And the last of the martinis dribble down our chins



We're sitting, chasing the conservation around the table



Jesus, how long have I been in this state?



The limousine's still waiting outside



Anything 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 colours 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 beautiful



A guy's face hits the floor

Police revolvers glistening in the streetlight

Onto Melrose and lurching through a sea of Halloweeen transvestites

The flight's cancelled, 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 in



Or the one Morrison hung out the window

Oh, I'll go for Jim's

I would fancy a hotel window-hanging, myself, tonight, man



Straight over to the mini-bar

Open the champagne -- one sip and it's left to wake up to



Anyone hungry?

A team of uniformed waiters lay out an elaborate table for all us to ignore

Oh, the irony



How 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 eyes



An exclusive door policy



Exclusively 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 morning



No one seems to notice

I find a table, champagne arrives



I've been so drunk, I sit and look at you

We try and talk for the first time in a long time



Drunken 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