Lyrics:

Are we still on the phoneWith the lady Anna Clarke and her trumpet soloWhose ghost sings for payIn the blue billiard room of the MontereyFor room and for boardAnd the backdoor key is a 19th century civil war swordOnce owned by John BoothWho misplaced his script wen he caught his leather bootThis could be the shining hourBased on all those mad beliefsIn the money oil and angel powderIn the new age magazineThere's a hole in the wallBehind the photograph of Al Capone he's a sittin' down at city hallThe police they peek thru hereAnd they watch you get dressed in the two-way mirrorBut it's all in good spiritsAnd if you close your eyes ya can't help help but to hear 'em moveThis could be the shining hourBased on all those mad beliefsIn the money oil and angel powderIn the new age magazineI propose a toastTo the memory of the horse who carried King Tut and his goldInto the sunHe collapsed last summer from the heat stroke somewhere in the East Village ohIt kills me to thinkThat I'm no longer living just looking for excuses to drinkSo lift up your glassAnd you Ouija board 'cause I'm fading fading fading fastThis could be the shining hourBased on all those mad beliefsIn the money oil and angel powderIn the new age magazine