Burn the Luggage

 All packed up with no suitcases
Leaving all that cities that left us in decay
Rotting flesh at the Pacific Palisades

I say you’re the countess of Dutch
You say you’re a bit out of touch
With a touch of to much
No mouth and no ties
Just a heart beating beauty and lies  

You say I'm the prince of nervous
Shaking and breaking elaborate promises
That sticks like a thorn in the eye
This all boils down to another goodbye

Now it’s metropolis in my head
Spinning like a carousel  
Round and round like a top
Turns out we came tumbling down
Out on holiday until September
And we both know we won’t be back again

Here I am sitting all alone
Just leave a message on the telephone
Because I'm not going to answer
The calls from my bed
And I still do everything to get you out of my head
So just carry it, and carry it, and carry it away
I'll just save this bullshit for another day