Lyrics

With your ragtop down on the freeway
You've got a pocketful of platinum debt
On the yellow brick road you were bought and sold
And the cold won't let you forget
The socialites won't drink the water
But the water tastes the same as the air
For a good memory you pay a user's fee
Man, I don't have a dollar to spare

In a heaven on earth infatuation
Nobody ever gets to the pier
I always hitch a ride with a transient guide
When my vision's not so clear
Been drinking me what they drink
Been drinking me what they sell
Bought some land in West Pandemonium
It's the nicest lot in hell

You'd do anything for a dollar
But a dollar won't pay for the dead
Got a slapstick schtick for the company prick
He's leaving messages in your head
Say you can't afford the tax on a conscience
You can't afford the tax on a soul
You can't afford the tax on the broken backs
So you throw them in the fucking hole

Yeah, you throw them in the fucking hole