Are we still on the phone

With the lady Anna Clarke and her trumpet solo

Whose ghost sings for pay

In the blue billiard room of the Monterey

For room and for board

And the backdoor key is a 19th century civil war sword

Once owned by John Booth

Who misplaced his script wen he caught his leather boot



This could be the shining hour

Based on all those mad beliefs

In the money oil and angel powder

In the new age magazine



There's a hole in the wall

Behind the photograph of Al Capone he's a sittin' down at city hall

The police they peek thru here

And they watch you get dressed in the two-way mirror

But it's all in good spirits

And if you close your eyes ya can't help help but to hear 'em move



This could be the shining hour

Based on all those mad beliefs

In the money oil and angel powder

In the new age magazine



I propose a toast

To the memory of the horse who carried King Tut and his gold

Into the sun

He collapsed last summer from the heat stroke somewhere in the East Village oh

It kills me to think

That I'm no longer living just looking for excuses to drink

So lift up your glass

And you Ouija board 'cause I'm fading fading fading fast



This could be the shining hour

Based on all those mad beliefs

In the money oil and angel powder

In the new age magazine