Lyrics:

Are we still on the phone With the lady Anna Clarke and her trumpet solo Whose ghost sings for pay In the blue billiard room of the Monterey For room and for board And the backdoor key is a 19th century civil war sword Once owned by John Booth Who misplaced his script wen he caught his leather boot This could be the shining hour Based on all those mad beliefs In the money oil and angel powder In the new age magazine There's a hole in the wall Behind the photograph of Al Capone he's a sittin' down at city hall The police they peek thru here And they watch you get dressed in the two-way mirror But it's all in good spirits And if you close your eyes ya can't help help but to hear 'em move This could be the shining hour Based on all those mad beliefs In the money oil and angel powder In the new age magazine I propose a toast To the memory of the horse who carried King Tut and his gold Into the sun He collapsed last summer from the heat stroke somewhere in the East Village oh It kills me to think That I'm no longer living just looking for excuses to drink So lift up your glass And you Ouija board 'cause I'm fading fading fading fast This could be the shining hour Based on all those mad beliefs In the money oil and angel powder In the new age magazine