Pretty baby don't be late, the world is ending I can't change the way I feel about you now, New York's as cold as ever. But still I go out every night, hide myself among the lights, bathe in all the pretty things the city brings. The bodies glisten and they shine, like the stars we're born to die, like these roses we all fade. I'm counting the cars on the freeway below, lost in the music, all the foolishness of our lives, spinning out of control lost in the music, in the music. Pretty baby please don't cry, wipe the guilt out from your eyes, lay your conscience on the bed there's no one innocent here. In the mirror you'll find faith- plastic flowers never fade. We all turn to gray...