Standard (EADGBE)
Star-crossed junkie misfits on the run
Some expensive wardrobe, a car, a gun for fun
They took her valise, a portmanteau, such a civilised way to go
This must be the rainbow's dead-end
Peel back that velvet rope and come inside
There's Jungle Jim at Mr. Chow's, with his mail-order bride
The higher that monkey climbs that tree, the more of his fat ass you'll see
This must be the rainbow's dead-end
This must be the rainbow's dead-end
If we get separated,
I'll meet you there
In our little hideaway,
Our pied-a-terre
Last year's model stranded in the bar
With some NRA convention, itchy fingers, whiskey in the jar
Through this gin palace, Alice wander, absinthe makes this tart grow fonder
This must be the rainbow's dead-end
Hotel, motel drifters one and all
Lie like dead men down in rows, against the Bondi Beach sea wall
The mirror smeared with wasted chance and nicotine stained romance
This must be the rainbow's dead-end
This must be the rainbow's dead-end
This must be the rainbow's dead-end