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