King Of The Hill

L.A.'s asleep - you roll up your window

The night air is cold - the freeway is clear.

In a green Gucci bag - are you prized possessions

The jewels of your mind - to hold back the fear.

And when Monday comes round - there's a high lonesome sound

And she follows you down for the kill.

And a while blinding light - makes it all seem so right

And you feel like the king of the hill.

The driveway is long - your princess is lovely

Your servants all wait - for your knock on the door.

How many years - will you crawl through this castle

So satisfied - and still wanting more.

And when Monday comes...

The guests have arrived - with all the right faces

But you miss the ball - in that room down the hall.

It's sunrise again - the driveway is empty

The crystal is cracked - there's blood on the wall.

And when Monday comes round...