| There’s a light in your hair, an apocalyptic glare
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| We’re in love again, we’re in love again
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| And it looks just like a comet, fire coming from it
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| Oh baby, let’s just sit back and stare
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| We’re in love again, we’re in love again
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| And I can’t stop thinking 'bout it
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| My favorite kind of fever
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| When you tell me not to doubt it, I tell you I believe you
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| I’m a man on a mission, you’re a stripper out of luck
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| And we’re good in the back seat but we’re better up front
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| And there’s blood on my knuckles 'cause there’s money in the trunk
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| Keep running out of luck, keep running out of luck
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| Now there’s cash on a stage, doesn’t matter what they paid
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| We’re in love again, we’re in love again
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| So please don’t stand around me
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| When she starts her dancing
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| I’m feeling like I might catch a case
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| We’re in love again, I said we’re in love again
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| And I can’t stop thinking 'bout it
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| She’s probably gonna leave you
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| But she tells me not to doubt it
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| And I’m starting to believe her
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| Understand
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| I’m a man on a mission, you’re a stripper out of luck
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| And we’re good in the back seat but we’re better up front
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| And there’s blood on my knuckles 'cause there’s money in the trunk
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| Keep running out of luck, keep running out of luck
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| In a neon boneyard, raised from the dead
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| We’ll bet on forever but we both know the spread
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| And the smoke from your fire’s going straight to my head
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| So keep running out of luck, keep running out of luck
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| Where you been?
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| I been in the smoke
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| Oh oh, oh
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| I’m a man on a mission, you’re a stripper out of luck
|
| And we’re good in the back seat but we’re better up front
|
| And there’s blood on my knuckles 'cause there’s money in the trunk
|
| Keep running out of luck, keep running out of luck
|
| In a neon boneyard, raised from the dead
|
| We’ll bet on forever but we both know the spread
|
| And the smoke from your fire’s going straight to my head
|
| So keep running out of luck, keep running out of…
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| Keep running out of luck |