Living in a bathrobe, chewing gum in new york
You promised me this, "it wont hurt, it wont hurt"
Living in a bathrobe, chewing gum in new york
What's the point if i can't come in first?
I'm downing pills in a perfect world of hurt
What part of six or seven nights alone
Has my body rejecting everything i feed it?
And what point of six or seven nights alone
Has me drinking away the part of me that needs it?
You're out there somewhere in new york city
Spending all your money on coke and parking ticket
And you're not sure what hit you
But you're pretty sure you'll sober up in just a minute
You're downing pills in a perfect world of hurt
Perhaps champagne vomit in the trashcan?