The High-Life.

Baby it's the night life,
The right life,
The starlight.
Baby it's the beat that keeps a bangin' like a drum.

Soul sister, jazz sister,
Put those fists in the air sister.
I'm a post-dreamer,
A hot hunny steamer,
I'm the ghost on your dance-floor.

And I can burn those moves like arsonists' flame,
Watch me pour that sweet liquor,
Just get it a little thicker,
Let me add some blood to that pulsing heart-race.  

I can sing sing till my lungs seizure,
And I can pump pump till my feet fall.
And I can crash crash on that satin rug,
Watch me get back up again.
Watch me get back up again.

And that white precious powder,
Like a homely warm cooked dinner,
And the rat poison and paint mixture,
Baby, I can't get up.

But I'll keep dancing dancing,
Even though my world is falling falling,
And Even now I'm crashing crashing,
And let the world know I'm OD'ing,
Because this party was just amazing,
And I'm living the night life baby.
Yes, I'm living the high-life baby.