Curtain Call

It’s sundown in the city of slums
And damned if it ain’t the best pile
Of bricks and shit this side of Mos Eisley.
Yeah, this is my place. So what?
Where the fuck are you from?
This is the rock and roll dream come true.
Wake up alone to the streetlights shining on the grime on the walls.
Don’t ask me where I’ve been because I never can really recall.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a fucking party coming through.
Hey driver, let me off somewhere,
I think this is where I’m supposed to be.
I’ll be the last man standing
Because I am the heart of this city.
Oh tally-ho, tally-ho! God bless these neon lights,
The polluted air; these «No Parking» signs.
I love this room, I love these walls, I love how no one laughs at all.
This is the way it is, because this is the way it’s always been.
Yes, I call it Heaven; others call it Sin.
Have you met my friend, Whiskey?
She’s the only one here who gets me.
My constant companion; she’s crafty:
She’s always trying to whisk me off my feet.
When you’ve got no where else, you’re welcome here.
Pull up a seat, grab a drink, we’ll swap stories.
I’ll be the only one to meet your eyes.
So come down to the city of slums,
The room may change, but the smell is the same.
It’s time to settle in for the night.
Drink up, drink up, my friends because
This is living the goddamn dream.
Back in the cab, I close my eyes.
And if I see the sun when I wake
I know (I know) I know it’s curtains for me.
I know (I know) I know it’s curtains for me.