Lydia Lunch - Hangover Hotel

Somebody broke in, but all that was missing were the polaroids
The scene of the crime could be anywhere, at any time
And I'm always salivating about maniac responsible
I know that to attack is merely the desire to free one's self
From infatuation that there's a thin line between a love tap
And murder with a blunt instrument that a sharp stick in the
Eye, kills the devil in the soul every time

And night after night, those hollow screams
Echo out through deserted parking lots
A paper oasis littered with lottery dreams
And I'm always lacerating myself with memories
And the demented visions of some woe-begotten
Messenger of the lord who's now living down at the
Hangover hotel, where everybody's living hand
To mouth trying to get ahead

But shit, a quick jaunt down to the corner store
To pick up a 40 of colt 45, a fifth of jack
A bottle of aspirin, half a dozen condoms
And a carton of cigarettes will bring you down real hard
By about fifty bucks and then all you're left with is your dreams
Adn you'll be dreaming amongst drunks...dreaming

Remembering the way it used to be...the way it used to be
Shit...the way it still is...dirt, cheap deeds sloppily executed
On sheetless mattresses...petty crimes of passion
Bringing secrets to the surface with the blood and alcohol
The scene of crime could be anywhere, at any time