Wednesday's Child

White-collar boys and their dog collar wives
Are singing sweet sin as the policeman eats his gun
We walk around the town and we plan to burn it down
'Cause New York went to Hell and your heart is having fun

We talk out of our cars as their glass reflects the stars
They are scattered like flecks of paint
You wept when Momma died though you laughed in an aside
Again, I'm drawn and quartered: you're a saint

Lovely little daughters and the famed prodigal sons
Are holding onto dreams though their thoughts are hazy
I hold another devil and you kiss another rebel
'Cause Paris went to Hell and your limbs are lazy

We look up to the lights where we'll flicker for the night
They are mirrored in the water on the street
You try to make me calm with my forehead on your palm
Again, we'll swallow something incomplete

Tabletop men and piano wire girls
Are resting downstairs with the sweet and bitter air
I swing my shorter leg and stumble to the bed
'Cause London went to Hell and the Sun is in your hair

The liquor's feeling evil like our neighbors with the needle
We're scattered from the window to the door
You try to feed your fire and I'm exactly that much higher
Again, you'll rest your head upon the floor