Ballroom

Ballroom

These fancy dudes in Brioni
suits are off to the grand ballroom.
These classy bitches in Louboutin kicks,
tapping clicks on cold marble,
a drunk wobble.

Back to the hotel room,
completely nude
except for her
Kilian perfume.

When they run out of flutes,
just walk up to the bar
and drink straight from the bottle.
When you spill on your shirt
but you're trying hard to flirt,
just take it off.

We don't belong in the highest
Loews. Why we are here, no one knows.
If they are kings, then we are subjects
or subject to assignment
with a stipend.

Back to the hotel room,
nothing to do
except wonder
how we'll get through.

When they run out of flutes,
we'll walk up to the bar
and take the whole damn bottle.
Champagne splashes on our shirts,
but we're trying hard to work.
We're taking off.

Sweat our only perfume,
we've stripped each other to the bone,
at last behold each other.
'Cause when we're seven drinks deep,
everyone just looks the same,
at least to me.

Back to the hotel room.



Credits
Writer(s): Georgia Belle Sutton, Joseph Michael Lemon
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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