I think of all the things you are
As you suck on the glowing end of a cigar
I really mean to wish you well
Down in the depths of your underworld hotel
I trust you now, if you've got it all planned out
Where did you go? Why don't we know?
In your Underworld Hotel
There's nothing left to sell
That's worth what anyone would pay
For something that they don't even understand
And Satan's only Son
Would give you love, if you reached out and touched its hand
I want to know, if you've got it all planned out
Where did you go? Why don't we know?
In your Underworld Hotel
There's nothing left to sell

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