She'd been lost on sunset and found in a dumpster On western avenue Dead in the manner that the living would never envy One red shoe missing and the gold dress all ripped up and something weird Written across her stomach with her own lipstick
She'd been toxic drunk When she met the guy With the soft woody harrelson smile And the homicide eyes Only beat coke and bike queen amphetamine Were keeping her vertical When she accepted His offer of a hundred And stepped into his van
Word on the street was the cops had him for two hours Later the same night on a traffic beef But they let him go
She'd done a walk-on in married with children And \"900 heat\" commercial So maybe you stretch things And call her a movie star
But isn't everyone a dead movie star at sunset and western He couldn't handle the voices in his head no more The ones who sounded like shelly winters and e. emmett walsh And all the desperate things they wanted him to do
And on saturday nights, He would call the tv shrink on the eerie Late night Call-in show
He couldn't tell the tv shrink about the voices And all the dark and terrible things they said
Or even that he was an officer In the los angeles police department The tv shrink Seemed to think It was something to do With his wanting to fuck his mother Bu that wasn't the case at all And even the fifth of scotch and the forty seconal Didn't stop the voices In fact The sons of bitches kept right on Talking at him And talking at him And talking at him And talking at him All the ay to the final fade
Talking at him About the woman in the gold dress And the things that he had done to her
E. emmett walsh had wanted him To blow his brains out in his car On the freeway In the rush hour \"you get on tv that way You'll be a godamned movie star\".
But isn't everyone a dead movie star In a black and white At sunset and western At 12th and alvarado At hollywood and argyle At selma and ivar Everyone's a dead movie star