M. Roadhouse / Last Night - Allan Rayman

Off to the races, off on his own

Off he shakes these infatuations

Dreams of providing off his music

Swears to death he’ll chase them

Hats off to the fact they’ve begun to chase him

Often the truth seems more abrasive, he’s begun to face it

Oh no, oh no

Ah, face it

Now it’s true, it’s true, it’s true

He’s from the north, he’s got no city

He only knows the 512

They talk about him like he’s next up

They don’t know the fucking dude

Off they go, tires burning road

All the words they spoke

Watch them sweat and grow

Allan’s not a

on the road, watch him go

Watch him go

He starts production on his Roadhouse film

He’s under budget, at a casting standstill

He’s got his beat-up Ford pickup

Plans to shoot on film

Presenting Mr. Roadhouse

Ladies and gentleman, introducing Mr. Roadhouse

Presenting Mr. Roadhouse

«Sweetheart?»

«Sweetheart, I’m home…»

She can’t do wrong by a friend

They fight for attention

And when it all falls apart

She blames it on them and then they start again

Pleased to pay no mind

She gets the head all the time

I give her cold shoulder, she always plays it cool

She only talks back sometimes

And my back stays turned to her

I catch the girl slipping, yeah

Looking at the boy

But my back stays turned to her

This girl only wants what she can’t have

I am the world to her

It’s funny how I am the world to her

Beverly Hills girl

Cruella de Vil

Oh, she’s so perfect, sure

It’s never good enough for her

It don’t matter to her anyway

Don’t matter to her anyway

It don’t matter to her anyway

No, it don’t matter to her anyway

It don’t matter to her anyway

Oh, don’t matter to her anyway

It don’t matter to her anyway

No, it don’t matter to her anyway

Beverly Hills girl

Cruella de Vil

Oh, she’s so perfect, sure

It’s never good enough for her