Pulp Fiction

We came here as a matching set The six of us, just us six innocents A blind date at the fiction May I peek through your blue eyes? The night is white the lights are flashing And the six us of are hot Although it's March, you'll find us splashing Where the rest of you would not The room just keeps on spinning as the bad boys play roulette I lost a shoe, but I keep winning No contusions no regret Because it's better to be hammered than a useless rusty nail It's all the sixes, and we're set, into the morning Abigail I'm on my knees Not praying Is there anybody down there? Sorry, please It's taken You won't find anybody in here... We're flying at the fiction on a night you won't believe Free spirits flailing in the fountain And near nothing underneath It's like the movie where she gets the guy And takes the plane and leaves The tragic facts of life for losers for a life less ordinary They all shoot horses, don't they? Sure we're doomed to drop I don't care how long it takes Just need to make it to the shops So can you help me cause I need it Got my head stuck in this pail The weekend's young, and I am trying Turn the light on Abigail I'm on my knees Not playing Can't find anybody in here For pity's sake, what would I have to Take for you to listen So please don't shout Stop shaking Don't take any pictures I'm so sorry, Abby, really Being blinded by the fiction