Here’s Lookin’ at You Every Time I Die

Staring at a ghost across a table set for two
This is the last call before the credits roll
The charm of silver screen depression saturated in alcohol
It's so seductive
Filtered through tobacco haze
It's so fucking intoxicating
The way they glimmer through the grain
And make dysfunction such a fashion

Jimmy Stewart suicidal sex appeal
The alcoholic is the last true hopeless romantic
Stumbling and smelling of stale gasoline
Making James Dean speeches to an empty room
Audrey left some lipstick stains
On her cigarette in the ashtray
With a note scrawled on a napkin saying this is glamor
This is where Hollywood cues the delusion
That everything looks this blue through Sinatra's eyes

Oh, what America needs now
Is another worthwhile overdose
Celestial bodies constructed on set
Destined to explode in the headlines

Another dry martini and a methamphetamine
Godspeed Norma Jean
I hope you saved us one last sleeping pill