Hangover Hotel

Somebody broke in but all that was missing were the polaroids
The scene of the crime could be anywhere at anytime...
But I'm always salivating about the maniac responsible
I know that to attack is merely the desire to free one's self
from infatuation That there's a thin line between a love tap
and murder with a blunt instument That a sharp stick in the
eye kills the devil in the soul every time.

And night after night those hollow screams
echo out through deserted parking lots
That paper oasis littered with lottery dreams
And I'm always lacerating myself with memories
and demented visions of some woe-begotten
Messenger of the Lord who's now livin' down at the
Hangover Hotel where everybody's livin' hand
to mouth trying to get ahead

But, shit, a quick jaunt down to the corner store
to pick up a forty of Colt 45, a fifth of Jack
a bottle of aspirins, half a dozen condoms
and a carton of cigarettes will bring ya down real hard
by about fifty bucks and then all you're left with is your dreams...
And you'll be dreamin' amongst drunks... Yeah, dreamin'....

Remember the way it used to be... the way it used to be...
Shit... The way it still is... dirt cheap deeds sloppily executed
On sheetless mattresses... Petty crimes of passion...
Bringing secrets to the surface with blood and alcohol...

The scene of the crime could be anywhere at anytime...

LYDIA LUNCH