I was running out of trouble
You were running out of fame
Streets smelled like the desert
As they were putting out the flames

And Chelsea burns
Chelsea burns under my feet

Twenty-third was empty
I heard somebody yell
A straight-laced passerbys
Pulled over the hotel

And Chelsea burns
Chelsea burns under my feet

Whether we were lost or overwhelmed
Nobody knows that I'm better off
Making up lies to be left alone

And Chelsea burns
Chelsea burns under my feet

I was running out of trouble
You were running out of fame
In streets ahead of happiness
Still wondering who to blame

Chelsea burns
Chelsea burns under my feet