Fault Lines

Down here where the heat's so fine
 I'll drink to your health and you'll drink to mine
 As we try to make the money we scored out in Vegas hold out for a while
 We drink vodka from Russia, get our chocolates from Belgium
 We have our strawberries flown in from England
 BUt none of the money we spend
 seems to do us much good in the end
 I got a cracked engine block, both of us do
 Got a house, the jewels, the Italian race car
 They don't make us feel better about who we are
 I got termites in the framework, so do you
 Down here where the watermelon grows so sweet
 Where I worship the ground underneath of your feet
 We are experts in the art of frivolous spending
 It's gone on like this, for three years I guess
 And we're drunk all the time and our lives are a mess
 And the deathless love we swore to protect with our bodies is stumbling across it's bleak ending
 But none of the rage in our eyes seems to finish it off where it lies
 I got sugar in the fuel lines, both of us do
 And the fights, and the lies that we both love to tell
 fail to send our love to its reward down in hell
 I got pudding for a backbone, but so do you
 La la la
 Hey hey