I was overland touring in my new Ferrari at just about 110. I was on my way home from a sophisticated party where I got a little drunk on gin. As the headlights cast a glow on, they wrote a hurty voice inside of me. They said you lost the light, now you're moving through the night, running from the grand ennui. Running from the grand ennui. Well, I reached in my pocket and I pulled out the Omega that was never one second behind. I knew the horse that I was running at the Southern Talladega had won for the 22nd time. In the counties I was with, bent over with a kiss and put a jeweled hand on my knee. I knew I'd lost the light and I was moving through the night, running from the grand ennui. Running from the grand ennui. Well, that night passed in a blaze of glory with the countess and the cop, both mine. And each day passes with the same old story, but the countess has a brand new life. It's still that night I am haunted by the frightening distant memory of the day I lost the light, moving through the night, running from the grand ennui. Running from the grand ennui.