| Order an Old Fashioned with a splash of Grand Marnier
|
| I’ll be there in ten minutes if you’ll stay
|
| I don’t wanna argue, but I gotta tell you straight
|
| And better if it happens face to face
|
| They’re lookin' for you, brother
|
| They keep stopping by the house
|
| They’re waiting at my work when I get out
|
| What do you think would happen if they’d followed me here now
|
| Do you really think they’d let it go
|
| Well judging by your silence, the answer’s no
|
| It’s not true, Matthew
|
| No it’s nothing like before
|
| They know exactly where you’re gonna be
|
| In that presidential suite up on the 37th floor
|
| With your feet propped up, watchin' the TV
|
| With a tray of food you’re never gonna eat
|
| And some shit excuse that no one would believe
|
| In that empty hotel by the sea
|
| Now when it’s over I’ll be talkin' to your grave
|
| You might as well hear what I’ll say
|
| I can’t forgive you, and I’ll never sing your praise
|
| Why’d you always have to get your way
|
| Now you’re a legend to those sick Neanderthals
|
| The ones who count the bullet holes
|
| Can’t help admiring the splatter on the wall
|
| Like cherry blossoms in the spring
|
| Oh, it’s a thing of beauty 'til it gets cleaned
|
| It’s not true, Matthew
|
| No it’s nothing like before
|
| They know exactly where you’re gonna be
|
| In that presidential suite up on the 37th floor
|
| With a blindfold on, tryin' to fall asleep
|
| While your rental car’s on fire in the street
|
| And the snowflakes falling softly on the beach
|
| In that empty hotel by the sea
|
| Oh, it’s, it’s not true, Matthew
|
| No it’s nothing like before
|
| They know exactly where you’re bound to be
|
| In that presidential suite up on the 37th floor
|
| With your fingers broken, pickin' up your teeth
|
| With the realization you were in too deep
|
| With some final words that no one will repeat
|
| While the snow’s still fallin' softly on the beach
|
| In that empty hotel by the sea |