Written by Warren Zevon 1973 Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp./Darkroom Music BMI. How're you going to make your way in the world. When you weren't cut out for working. When your fingers are slender and frail. How're you going to get around. In this sleazy bedroom town. If you don't put yourself up for sale. Where will you go with your scarves and your miracles. Who's gonna know who you are. Drugs and wine and flattering light. You must try it again till you get it right. Maybe you'll end up with someone different every night. All these people with no home to go home to. They'd all like to spend the night with you. Maybe I would too. But tell me. How're you going to make your way in the world woman. When you weren't cut out for working. And you just can't concentrate. And you always show up late. You said you were an actress. Yes I believe you are. I thought you'd be a star. So I drank up all the money. Yes I drank up all the money. With these phonies in this Hollywood bar. These friends of mine in this Hollywood bar. Loneliness and frustration. We both came down with an acute case. And when the lights came up at two. I caught a glimpse of you. And your face looked like something. Death brought with him in his suitcase. Your pretty face. It looked so wasted. Another pretty face. Devastated. The French Inhaler. He stamped and mailed her. "So long Norman". She said "So long Norman".