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Down here where the heat's so fine |
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I'll drink to your health and you drink to mine |
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As we try to make the money we scored out in Vegas |
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Hold out for a while |
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We drink vodka from Russia, we get out chocolates from Belgium |
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We have our strawberries flown in from England |
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But none of the money we spend seems to do us much good in the end |
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I've got a cracked engine block, both of us do |
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Yeah, the house and the jewels, the Italian race car |
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They don't make us feel better about who we are |
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I've got termites in the framework |
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So do you |
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Down here where the watermelon grows so sweet |
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Where I worship the ground underneath of your feet |
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We are experts in the art |
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Of frivolous spending |
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And it's gone on like this, for 3 years, I guess |
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And we're drunk all the time and our lives are a mess |
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And the deathless love we swore to protect with our bodies |
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Is stumbling across its bleak ending |
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But none of the rage in our eyes |
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Seems to finish it off where it lies |
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I got sugar in the fuel lines |
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Both of us do |
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Yeah, the fights and the lies that we both love to tell |
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Fail to send our love to its reward down in hell |
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I got pudding for a backbone |
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But so do you |
