LYRIC

Marilyn Monroe bought a bungalow
In sunny West Hollywood
She took to the bottle; she threw out Aristotle
Cause the thinking wasnt doing no good

Its a goddamn waste its a bitter taste
The pills we pop, the drinks we chase
She threw down the script; she threw down the bottle
Now whos gonna call Joe Dimaggio?

Youre dressed for the fight
Its a Saturday night on the boulevard
And I can hear in your voice
Youre making bad choices
Man, you only call me when it gets hard
And we ask you to change
And aint it strange how friends disappear?
Were tired of steering you clear
Go ahead, fall all apart

In boys town, they party round the clock
The clock is spinning backwards
The jesters doubletalk
And if you listen to your language
You could break the fall
Of rhymes and steal back time

If we took the medicine away
Would the walls you build hold against the day?
When the sky is falling, when heavens calling
When you run from your past, your future is stalling
You find your grip and hold against the day
Heaven holds a place for those who pray

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