RIP to the Empire State Flea Market

Lyrics for RIP to the Empire State Flea Market

Port Chester past I-95, take a right into the parking lot Down the stairs past the Mariachi records you bought and then forgot Who would play you in a movie, maybe Julia Stiles 'Cause you got a foreign lover winking at the bottom of your smile Tell you what I'll do I'ma wait out here for you 'Til the cars begin to move And the sun dries all the dew Search through all the bars and the nice gentlemen's cars Smile and then you're gone You don't get what you want Can't figure the mathematics of your thighs in the fuck'em dress Pat Swayze on them bitches like it's 4AM and I'm depressed Who would play you in a movie, maybe Maggie Gyll' Irish immigrants stare out at the water, sad and mute and still One day when you're gone I'ma wait out on your lawn 'Til the street lamps all turn on And the dog walkers are gone Black out on the moon Black out in your room You don't get what you want You don't get what you want