L.a.'s asleep - you roll up your window
the night air is cold - the freeway is clear.
in a green gucci bag - are you prized possessions
the jewels of your mind - to hold back the fear.
And when monday comes round - there's a high lonesome sound
and she follows you down for the kill.
and a while blinding light - makes it all seem so right
and you feel like the king of the hill.
The driveway is long - your princess is lovely
your servants all wait - for your knock on the door.
how many years - will you crawl through this castle
so satisfied - and still wanting more.
and when monday comes...
The guests have arrived - with all the right faces
but you miss the ball - in that room down the hall.
it's sunrise again - the driveway is empty
the crystal is cracked - there's blood on the wall.
and when monday comes round...