The first time we flew in



It was cheap and cramped



The vodka running out half-way across the Atlantic



Even the steward screamed and joined in it



We didn't think we were going to make it



Now we're stretched out in wide, furry seats



Flicking through menus



A walk to the bar and there's as much screw-top champagne as we can drink



We're so easy



Taking turns having our photos taken



Sitting in front of small windows



Decanters of cheap whiskey in our hands



Drive into Manhattan on a date with a starlet who's just talent



That's what people pay the money to see



Who are we to argue?



Five hours now it's been going on



And still we're watching all of it



Can you really believe all this?



Can he really lie in bed at night and marvel at his own genius?



When do you lose the ability to step back



And get a sense of your own ridiculousness?



They're only songs



Midnight, and it's all over



Now it can really make us laugh



We're standing on our heads drinking sours of Crystal Schnapps



Now we're unable to step back or forward



Swallowing a swallow



Tasting it again, it's not so unpleasant



Perhaps it's an acquired taste



The first time, it makes you sick



Then, little by little, it becomes delicious



Showbiz people



Always there to be interested in what you say



We are artists; we are sensitive and important



We nod our heads earnestly



Already half-way down the champagne



On our way to leaving the place dry



A $2,000 bar bill



Showbiz picks up the tab



And we're on our way laughing



Laughing at what?



Los Angeles, eight days in



And our sense of irony's running pretty thin



All the friends we've made



It's 2 am, it's closing time at the Dresden



Marty and Layton play one last sleepy "Strangers in the Night"



And the last of the martinis dribble down our chins



We're sitting, chasing the conservation around the table



Jesus, how long have I been in this state?



The limousine's still waiting outside



Anything you want to do?



Anywhere you want to go?



We're on our way to the airport and a plane to Vegas



So many nights lying in bed shaking



Dreaming of pushing my daughter around the supermarket



The joy of seeing all those colours and shapes reflected in her wide eyes



My head leaning on the window



And we're driving through the empty L.A. streets



And everything seems silent and beautiful



A guy's face hits the floor



Police revolvers glistening in the streetlight



Onto Melrose and lurching through a sea of Halloween transvestites



The flight's cancelled, but it doesn't matter



We turn this corner to a way that takes us wherever



Up to Sunset



We creep up the drive to the Shattuck



The suite Belushi died in



Or the one Morrison hung out of the window



Oh, I'll go for Jim's



I would fancy a little window-hanging myself, tonight, man



Straight over to the mini-bar



Open the champagne -- one sip and it's left to wake up to



Anyone hungry?



A team of uniformed waiters lay out an elaborate table for all us to ignore



Oh, the irony



How we're used to living



Back in London on a cold Friday night



Do you want another drink?



Well, I could try



Perhaps we could make it to the Atlantic



600 yards, twenty minutes later



We're pushing through the waiting crowd, all fish eyes



An exclusive door policy



Exclusively for arseholes



And tonight? Well, a nod of our heads, and we're inside



Falling down the red, velvety stairs



Limbs flaying, hands searching for something to steady



Pick ourselves up, nothing broken



Just aches in the morning



No one seems to notice



I find a table, champagne arrives



I've been so drunk, I sit and look at you



We try and talk for the first time in a long time



Drunken confessions



You shiver, it made you feel sick



We use the rent money to pay the bill



Bumping shoulders, we stumble out into Soho



Slipping over the sleeping bags



Shouting for taxis