The first time we flew in 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 small 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 Crystal Schnapps Now we're unable to step back or 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, little by little, 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 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 reflected 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 Halloween 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 of the window Oh, I'll go for Jim's I would fancy a little 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 yards, 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 confessions 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