He smokes his last cigarette from the pack
Shines the whiskey right off his shoes
He knows there's never any turning back
Still he grabs his fresh pressed suit

Gets dressed while the sweat rolls down his chest
This day could be his last
It seems like it's all coming too damn quick
Oh yeah, it's coming fast

Hits the road like a bat straight out of hell
He rolls the windows down
I've never seen him cry so well
I've never seen him frown

He turns his Frank cassette on high
Adjusts his car seat up
Sings along to that "New York" lullaby

[Chorus:]

It's times like these that we will fight
It's over and it's under our skin
Now darling tell me
That we're alright

She waits for him in the hearse
While trying to find some red lipstick that will
Compliment her skirt and match her ugly purse-onality
Is out of line I think she'd be just fine,
Not knowing the meaning of a dime
(OH NO! ) He's running out a time

Hits the brakes when arriving to the scene
His bow-tie's drenched in sweat These days are few and far between
He's throwing up regret She struts up to his car and smiles,
Kisses one last time, says "Pray for me when I go on trial"