Come on down to the dreaming district,
my name is Bonnie
and I guess you’re Clyde.
Drink it down with a bottle of wine
Or vodka and moonshine,
If your mind can take you that high.
Come on down to the wasteland.
Where sad girls, are turned into
pretty diamonds with cracks ingrained.
They blag their way into hotel rooms
Laying half dead in an broken bed.
Kissing the beautiful felons into freedom
Where were you babe?
When this town we built on dead roses
started falling apart?
The Krays they are dead.
and the filth run the game
And the dreamers who would have
given their lives,
gave up instead.