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 ca**ette on high Adjusts his car seat up Sings along to that "New York" lullaby 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."