Okkervil River

This week's cash for last week's grass your crew collates
While you sit in the van and wait
Gassed and trashed and smashed, your Cad's roasting away
So, on a sunny summer day, or, okay, an August night anyway
And you're living on air, while on the 25th floor up there
They fan a million bucks before your face
Marie's passed out in a chair, with her once-fussed-over hair
All mussed into an I've-just-been-fucked shape
Just an hour before she crashed, all cashed
She said "I'm done with looking back, and you look your age
Which is 47, by the way, and not 28
Fucking let them stare, 'cause at this point I don't care
I have been your bride stripped bare since '98
And our silver screen affair, it weighs less to me than air
It's a gas now, it's a laugh just how far several mil' can take it
This week's fast is last week's flash of interstate
When you starved and never ate
This week's splashed a sickle cast across your face
As you roam on silk, we'll tippy-toe alone through Silver Lake
Us astride a snow white mare
On a non-stop all-night tear
What a ghastly sight you'll smear in every face
In that fat, fur-trimmed affair
That your lawyer lets you wear
You'll destroy your chance to ever get repeatedly engaged