Deckard. Grace’s Estate. Zeneszám

Rolling over I rolled out of the bed I am scratched and bled
I?ve been misled

Curled up in a corner was her coat a big cat skin
Synthetic sin

And once again I?m in flame

I gather all of my clothes from the couch and the floor
It was polished wood the shine was good

I?m half way out of the door as she stirs and calls
I must use the loo good day to you

And once again I?m in flame

And once again I find myself strung out and hung over