Goodnight spoon and goodnight stash.
The sun is up. It’s time to crash.
Goodnight booze and pills and crystals,
Moroccan scarves and German pistols.
The groupies snorted all the blow;
The roadies passed out hours ago;
Mick’s stretched out in Room Ten-Oh-Nine
Where all those stray cats wait in line.
So goodnight Memory Motel.
Goodnight bottle of Rebel Yell;
Brazilian pimp and Swedish whore;
The French cops pounding at the door.
The dealers with the gypsy curse;
That jaded faded junkie nurse;
The midnight ramblers and Angels on Harleys;That tripped-out chick who swears she’s Charlie’s.
Goodnight Brian, Bill and Ron.
Goodnight Elvis. Goodnight Jann.
It’s time to set the cuckoo clock.
Ah, fuck sleep. Let’s stay up and rock.