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Last night at the end of the line I was half a million miles from a prayer |
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I crossed my hands across my heart and I laid out in the desert somewhere |
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The sun hit me with a blinding light and the vultures were circling my bed |
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Then a troop in fine Italian suits came pulling up in their Mopeds |
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They looked at me with my makeup on |
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They offered money and they carried me home |
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They said "come on down to the motorcade where it's better than you had it before |
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There's lots of money that we can make |
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Amphetamines for kids who are bored |
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It doesn't matter what your friends say, we're gonna make it out of this door |
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So come on down to the motorcade where it's better than you had it before" |
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Yesterday at the tip of the bay I was drinking saltwater and lye |
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The undertow slowly pulled me down below and I laid my heavy head down to die |
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The bubbles rose to the surface from my nose spelling "please brother help me if you can" |
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The motorcade took a break from sunbathing and they swam out to give me a hand |
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They dove down in their Jacques Cousteaus to offer money in their European clothes |
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They said "come on down to the motorcade where it's better than you had it before |
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There's lots of money that we can make, Amphetamines for kids who are bored |
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It doesn't matter how the tide breaks, we're gonna make it back to the shore |
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So come on down to the motorcade, where it's better than you had it before" |
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It doesn't matter you know, it's just a bad dream |
