Mosaic

So I'm four years older than the Ox, when he passed away
In room 658 of the Hard Rock Hotel in Las Vegas, in disarray
With a groupie called Sianna, a leopard skin rug
And white lines on a tray
His bass lines from "My Generation" was one of the first that
I learned to play
And we exchanged a secret handshake on that day

Now I'm drifting through these corridors
Where commerce meets the carnal
To hang another picture of some dream girl on the wall
And despite this torch I carry, the halls are growing darker
And they're not decked with holly, or anything bright at all

You traded stripper tips for a zip-code in West Hollywood
And you're far from the orange curtain of your OC childhood
And it's a pas de deux in a rented room, the ballerina
[unidentified] dancer
Rendezvous at midnight with the full moon in their blood

So come lay on my fever dream, let me feel the glow inside you
Then rise like Mary Magdalene on the crest of a West Coast dawn
I've got thirty years on you and we only have hours together
The clock it is a guillotine and my head in a basket is borne

And back in Barcelona where old Goudy had dreamed his dreams
The architecture of delirium is never what it seems
Il Sagrada Familia, they're still building it
I guess you just can't quit when you've come so far

And me I'm in the back room of some dingy bar
Putting pen to paper and lighting flame to tar
Reporting from the front line of this crazy life
A life of misadventure, adversity and strife
But I wouldn't change it if I could, as with beauty too it's life
So two sides to the story and double edged the knife

All these fractured images like little mosaic pieces
When seen from a distance, they resemble a broken heart