All language subtitles for Mr. Mercedes - 1x03 - Cloudy With a Chance of Mayhem.en

Previously on "Mr. Mercedes"...

Have any cobwebs you just can't shake?

- This is mine.
- I want to know.

I want to know who tormented my sister.

You're a goddamn dead man.

You smell like a saloon,
loaded man, loaded gun.

It's not good, Bill.

You almost shot a kid.

How much have you been drinking lately?

Not enough.

I don't want to go
to your funeral in 6 months.

What does it do?

Let's just say it activates

and deactivates almost anything I want.

Brady, my deeper concern runs to you.

You're weird.

Sometimes you come across
as just plain weird.

Oh, Jesus! God!

Got a letter from my new pen
pal, put this one in writing.

"Care to get in touch?

Try Under Debbie's Blue Umbrella."

Synced & corrected by kinglouisxx
www.addic7ed.com

♪ The wind turns like a dagger ♪

♪ The rain falls like a hammer ♪

♪ The sky has grown dark ♪

♪ But it's not too late ♪

♪ The weather crashes down ♪

♪ What's lost cannot be found ♪

♪ The night is closing ♪

♪ But it's not too late ♪

♪ It's not too late ♪

♪ It's not too late ♪

♪ The atmosphere is lethal ♪

♪ But I will fear no evil ♪

Oh, my God.

Mom?

Wait, Brady.

Brady, honey, honey, no.

G-Go... Go to bed, honey.

Go to bed, okay?

Stop it.

It's big people time, okay?

Okay, honey?

Beat it, you little shit.

Good boy, go... go... go to bed.

Mom... Mommy's having private
time, good boy.

Okay.

Okay.

Oh, my god.

Oh, God.

And good morning, Ohio. I'm John Moore.

And I'm Amanda Collins.
We have a lot coming up for you,

the latest on the big trial
we've been following,

obviously, some traffic this morning

you need to know about,
and your weather.

But, first, going to a segment.

We're going to talk about your dog

and how obedient that dog
is around the house.

I got this problem with...

Maybe the problem is more with
my wife than with my dog.

But the dog, this big German Shepherd,

kind of thinks the place is his,

- and he is on that couch...
- Hey, come sit.

...every time my wife leaves the room.

- I feel like he's looking...
- I'm fine.

...over me and say,
"Hey, she doesn't know we're here."

It's not healthy to eat standing up.

But as soon as she comes back in,
"Why'd you let him get there?"

But he's always happy to see me.

I come home. The tail is wagging.

He doesn't care how long I've
been gone, where I've been.

So you're saying your wife
isn't happy to see you?

S-She likes me maybe
really two days a week....

uh, when it's payday.

All that aside, it's a bit serious.

"Training your Dog" segment...
if you have a problem dog,

stick around. You'll want to learn...

And sometimes it works
and sometimes it doesn't.

♪ I've got a pocket full of money ♪

♪ And a heart full of love ♪

♪ I got a pocket full of money,
whoo, yes ♪

♪ And a heart full of love ♪

♪ Well, let's cuddle up ♪

♪ And act like a turtledove ♪

♪ Now, I've got a few things
that I want you to do ♪

♪ I just ain't had time, darling... ♪

Check this out.

Holy shit.

Can we get a tarp on this
before it washes away?

Already on its way.

It's registered
to a Mrs. Olivia Trelawney,

1127 Ashley Way, Apartment 19C.
It's in Sugar Heights.

- Got a phone number?
- I can get one.

Yeah!

No airbag deployment.

He disabled them.

Speaks to premeditation.

Speaks to him knowing how to do it.

You get a whiff?

He must have used
3, 4 gallons of bleach.

This'll be a forensics
fucking dee-light.

♪ Well, let's get together ♪

♪ And hug up like a turtledove ♪

Nice.

Yeah. I'm laying
in a hospital bed half-dead.

You two can't be bothered.

Did you take a frigging beat to worry,

show some concern?

I'm sorry.

I'm in oral motor rehabilitation.

I sustained nerve damage.

I got to suck on this 4 hours a day.

D-Did they visit?

They're part-timers.

Yeah. Well, us full-timers thought

that you'd want us to mind the store.

Did you fuck with my computer?

What?

One second, it's working perfect.
The next, it nearly killed me.

That is messed up, Robi.

Seriously, that's almost cruel.

What kind of monster do you think I am?

Sorry. Sorry.

I pride myself on being on time,
which I never am.

Somebody dead?

- Sorry?
- I see retired people in ties,

my brain immediately goes to funerals.

Well, the tie just means I'm on the job.

Our job.

Yeah. You want to sit down?

I did go to the storage space.

Turns out he wrote her a letter,

more than one, in fact.

- This good?
- Yes.

Anybody who intentionally
mows down innocent people

is a sick fuck,

but...

this guy is so much worse.

"Dear Olivia Trelawney..."

"I am the man who stole your Mercedes.

To the public, I am a monster,

but I want you to know
that I am also a human being."

Really? Okay.

I grew up in a physically
and sexually abusive household.

I was bullied at school, laughed at,

and not just by the other kids,
but by teachers, too.

I was never a mean kid, Mrs. Trelawney.

I just tried to get through my childhood

without being laughed at or humiliated.

I did not succeed.

I work in a low-paying job

and lead what most people
would consider to be

a bad and unremarkable life.

Finally, I began to get angry.

I wanted to strike back at the world

and make the world know I was alive.

"One day, it all got to be
too much. I didn't plan ahead.

I just couldn't take it
anymore, and I..."

This is bullshit.
He thought ahead, planned it.

Mm, keep reading.

"And I did what I did.

I still relive the thuds

that resulted from hitting
all of those people."

"I still hear their screams.

The guilt can be so much,

which makes me think of you.

You must be feeling guilt, too.

After all, had you not left
your keys in the ignition...

So many "ifs."

If I had not been out walking,

suffering from the insomnia that night."

Had you not left the car unlocked,

perhaps none of this
would have happened.

Perhaps those innocent people
would still be alive.

I want you to know, I feel
your anguish, Mrs. Trelawney.

Compassionate little fuck, isn't he?

"After all, we only have each other."

Those innocent people
would still be alive,

but for the two of us.

Crazy as it may seem...

you are the only person
keeping me alive.

Really working her.

"Because you're the only one
who can understand

what it is like to be in hell.

Sincerely, Mr. Mercedes."

Probation? You got to be kidding me.

We don't have a probation policy.

No. He meant it like a warning,
like I could have got fired.

Brady, we run this place.

We make all the service calls.

We work the floor.

Robi doesn't know shit about computers.

He just likes to boss us around
and hold dominion and shit.

What's going on?

Um, just a migraine, stress thing.

- I'll be fine.
- Yep, stress caused by Robi.

We should report him to OSHA.

Hey, I'll tell you what.

He's always wanting us
to show initiative and shit.

We should tell him
that while he was away at lunch,

we started a human resources department

and reported his fucking ass.

What the fuck?
Who's working the register?

What, you didn't see? I left a note...

please help yourself.

What? Paulie's out there. So is Tayles.

No, no. They're retards. No.

I don't want them working
the register unattended, so.

Yeah. Well, I'm on my break.

- You're not.
- I'll just be one minute.

He was delayed because of a migraine
brought on by your abuse,

which is currently under investigation
by our new HR wing.

What?

And what's with
the "Man From Glad" getup?

What did I say about you selling
Popsicles during business hours?

I was on break, so personal time.

- What are you, a drug dealer, Brady?
- Shut up.

What did you say to me?

I'm not a drug dealer.

Uh-huh.

Well, who you selling
ice cream to at lunchtime?

I did a birthday party at a school.
I don't sell drugs, you...

I have had it with you two.

Fuck.

You really okay?

Yeah. It's just a migraine, so.

Go home.

You're allowed to have a sick day.

Just... go home.

I'll deal with Robi.

Thank you.

With each one, he keeps upping
the emotional voltage.

He keeps talking about his guilt,

but he's really trying to...

- Uncork hers.
- Right.

Well, I mean, the good thing about it is

that this is what
we call "hard evidence."

This is just the kind of thing
the police are looking for.

I have a pretty good nose
for indifference,

and I promise you,
the police don't give a shit.

This is going to end up at the bottom
of a... of a dusty file.

If I don't go forward with this,

I'm withholding evidence,

which is a felony offense.

I'd never get to vote
for President again.

Okay.

Well, I have done some research,

and it seems that P.I.s make around...

$5,000 a week.

And I'm prepared to write
a personal check right now,

make it completely official.

Any communication
or conversations we have

will be deemed work product.

Mm.

Okay. Ms. Patterson,
before I cash your check,

I'm telling you I'm taking
this to the police.

Then we'll see what happens next, okay?

Okay.

Well, I guess news travels fast.
Who told you?

Told me what? I haven't heard shit.

You serious?

Bill, we caught him.

Caught who?

Oh, my God. You really didn't hear.

Donnie Davis.

And get this... that asshole
didn't just kill his wife.

Turns out he's Turnpike Joe.
He killed all those hookers.

We just hit the fucking lottery here.

Oh, that's... that's fantastic.

Jesus, try not to get too excited.

No, no, no. T-That's...
That's great, really.

Can I talk to you for a second?

W... Yeah. Come on.

So these are the ones he sent to me.

These others are what
led her to suicide.

There's things in there
only the killer could know.

This is not hoax shit.

Okay. Okay.

Bill, great, we'll take it from here.

Private conversation.

Izzy's working the case with me.
It's all right.

- Oh, really?
- Hi, Bill.

Bill has received some letters
he believes might be pertinent

to the, uh... Mercedes investigation.

Aha.

"Aha"? That's it?

No curiosity as to
what the letters contain?

- These are from him.
- Bill, how would you know?

And please don't tell me your gut.

Huh? I mean, this "I was
sexually abused and bullied"

boilerplate,
that's particularly him, is it?

And what about the integrity
of this evidence?

How many people have
touched these letters before me?

What's going on here? I'm on your team.

- No, Bill. No. You're off the team.
- Pete!

You're retired.

Now, I'm grateful you brought these in.

They'll be reviewed by us and the shrink

and any others who can lend
an expert hand.

- Pete, '93 or '94?
- '94.

See? There's '94.

Now, I'll... I'll pull
the prints off them.

And once we've ruled out yours and mine

and the sister's and Olivia Trelawney's

and her housekeeper's and the mother's

and any neighbors
they thought to share them with,

I'll see if his are on there, too.

- Hmm?
- When?

When we finish taking
the statement of Donnie Davis.

And then formally charge him
and then take his statement

on the turnpike killings

and then write up all our reports

and then maybe, oh, maybe,

squeeze in, oh, 4 hours of sleep.

Then maybe we reach out to the shrink

who might just point out
how these letters

don't seem all that different
from the 700 others

we received from all over the country

and two from Gstaad claiming
to be the Mercedes Killer.

Is that good enough for you, Bill?

Who the fuck are you?

Don't talk to me that way.

You think there's a game I'm playing?

You think I'm just making
shit up to entertain myself?

This is our guy, 100%.

- I wouldn't be here if it wasn't.
- How can you be so sure? Hmm?

It's not just the letters, Pete.

Mm?

He sends me messages
through my computer.

Your PC is talking to you?

No. He is talking to me through the PC

or laptop, whatever it is.

I've seen footage from City Center

taken from inside the car.

I mean, it's only a tiny
snippet, but it proves it.

Wait, wait, wait. You...

You got footage of him
running people down?

Yes. I mean, no.

It's like... He sent it,
but I don't have it.

The messages disappear.

The messages disappear?

It's how the site he uses works. Okay?

- It's called Under Debbie's Blue Umbrella.
- Bill, Bill, take a breath. Take a breath.

Look. Hey, look...

we'll take a look at all the evidence

still in the physical world.

Meanwhile, why don't...
why don't you go home?

And replay that conversation
we had the other day, man,

because I... don't want
to be having it again.

Bill!

Bill!

Nobody has got your back more than Pete.
I don't need to tell you that.

Yeah. You're telling me just the same.

You would have been broomed
a full 6 months earlier

had he not had your back.
You're drinking.

You're obsessing with
the Mercedes Killer.

You're still spiraling.

Maybe it's time to get some help.

Fuck you, and Pete, too,
if that's what he thinks.

It's too bad.

You earned the right
to retire with dignity.

The hell is your problem?

My problem is that you two shites
don't watch where you walk.

The fucking union is always complaining

about how dangerous the job is.

Might be less so if
some of the deadbeats

stop waltzing in front
of moving vehicles.

Do you want to be arrested, sir?

On what fucking charge?

Braking for police officers?

Go ahead. Go on, arrest me, lock me up.

And go up and tell Pete Dickson
that you're taking in another stray.

Away wit' ya!

Let's get the fuck out of here. Go.

When did I get so easy
to fucking ignore?

You want to lock me up for that,
assaulting me vehicle?

You better watch yourself.

Jerome.

- Jerome?
- Hmm?

Come on, you promised to help.

Yeah, yeah. I will.

Just let me get this work done first.

You're always working.

Come on, we have to do my posters.

We will. We will.

Seriously, the gala is in 3 weeks.

We got to get this done.
I have work to do, too.

Hey, hey, no, don't be feeding him that.

Chocolate is, like, fatal for a dog.

- What?
- Yeah.

Oh, Odie, I'm sorry, baby.

You okay?

So, are you going to help or not?

I will.

Let me just get this work
done first, please, Barbara.

You know what? Whatever.
It's always later, huh?

Come on, Odell, let's go.

Ooh.

- Hey, Son. What's going on?
- What's up, Pop?

What are you working on there?

Just a little project for Mr. Hodges.

Oh, yeah? What might that be?

Uh, I'm not 100% sure.

I think he's trying
to track down some psycho

he couldn't catch while
he was at the department.

I beg your pardon?

You're telling me he's enlisted you

to hunt down some criminal?

Well, you make it sound bad.

Ah, fuck.

Hi, Willie. How are you this morning?

- Willie!
- Very good.

I have a little surprise.
Close your eyes.

All right, open them.

All right.

That's Willie Whistle.

Okay, let's start with
Swee'Pea, just like Popeye.

C, another C, another backwards C,

another backwards C on the bottom.

A little mouth...

Gerry!

And here is Swee'Pea!

That didn't take too long, did it?

That's right.
Well, a lot of practice, Willie.

If you really want to be this good,
a lot of practice, okay?

C, another C, another C,
a backwards C, a little mouth.

- Okay.
- Mom!

Now we all know Swee'Pea
wears a hat like Popeye.

- Mom!
- So let's make sure we do the hat.

Gerry? Oh, my God.

Gerry, can you talk?

A line...

And another "C"...

- Honey, can you talk?
- Gerry!

My God.

Call 911. Call 911. Oh, my God. Go!

Go! Hurry!

There you go. You have to pay your
fucking tab tonight, all right?

Hey, ladies.

- Hi.
- Hey!

Did you get the pics
I sent from this weekend?

- No.
- Send them to me.

All right, all right.

'Scuse me. Bartender.

We're a little crazy, but that's okay.

- That's pretty usual for us.
- Excuse me.

- No way!
- Oh, yeah.

I was like, "Whaaaat?"

What can I get you?

Another, please.

Another what?

- You're so bad.
- Another Midleton.

Just keeping it real.

Did you see K-Dog there?

No, he's on some spiritual cleanse.
You didn't hear?

No.

- I didn't hear about that.
- Mnh-mnh.

- I want to do a spiritual cleanse.
- You said Bushmills?

No, I said Midleton.

Midleton!

- Thank you.
- Yeah, no prob'.

What does that mean?

What? It means "no problem."

Yeah, I'm fully aware there's no problem

that you serve me a drink
I pay an exorbitant price for.

Part of that exorbitance
goes to your salary

for you to pay your rent
and go on Shit Tweet

or Facefuck or Arse-book
or whatever you call it.

The proper response to my "Thank you"

is not "No problem."

It's... It's, like, "You're welcome,"

or "My pleasure," even.

My what?

"No problem" implies
that serving a customer

what he pays for could be a problem.

It shouldn't be a problem unless
you're the fucking problem.

Hey, sir,

if you continue to use abusive
and inappropriate language...

I'm not being inappropriate,
I'm being an arsehole.

Whereas you are being more of a cunt.

Okay.

We didn't say "inappropriate" in my day.

We said, "Yes, sir," or, "No, ma'am,"

or, "You're welcome."

We helped neighbors shovel their walks.

We opened doors for women.

We didn't think everything
was fucking relative.

We actually thought
that principles mattered.

Manners mattered.

Doing your fucking job right mattered.

I'll call the police, man.

You "call the police," man.
They won't come, man.

You don't get it.

We're all on your own.

They tell you the opposite, of course,

so we won't storm the castle.

The sad fucking fact of the matter

is, they'll just build
their hills higher

and their walls thicker

and leave us all to drown
in the fucking flood.

Let's go, Bill.

Who the fuck called you?

Come on, time to go.

Bill.

These are for you.

No problem.

- Oh!
- Oh!

I'll drink to that.

- My car's over this way.
- You're not going anywhere near it.

You... You haven't heard
a fucking word I told you.

Heard them all, drove me to drink.

I figured if I was half-trousered,

I might make sense out of some of them.

Bill, you think you're the
first cop to go down this path?

Being retired doesn't
make you irrelevant.

Being a piece-of-shit drunk
very much does,

- and I'm not gonna...
- Although being a piece-of-shit detective

that walks around not seeing,

- not talking... Fuck you.
- I'm talking now!

This case destroyed you
on the job, Bill.

Hell, it cost you your job.

You lost yourself.

Be it booze, depression,
you're out of control.

Being half-trousered,
I'm a little nauseous,

so you should know that
you're standing well

within my projectile vomit range.

Where does this end?

With the case? When I get him.

With you? Looks like it already has.

Fuck.

Okay.

_

And here we go.

Hey, how you doing out there?
I know who you are.

- You see me. I see you.
- Yeah.

But you're in a bathing suit,

and you get along still pretty
well after a couple children?

I mean, I can't say I like going
to try on the bathing suits.

But, yeah, I can get
in the gym and make it...

Make it...

Greetings, Detective.

I guess you're sill alive.

Though that gun's gotta be looking

pretty appetizing right now.

You say you want to play.

What do fat old fucks like to play?

How 'bout we pretend
you're still a detective?

Have you found any good clues yet?

Or do you just bumble around

like an old fart deep up his own ass?

Whoa!

Now your head's up my ass.

And it feels good, baby!

Move it around a little, make it squirm.

Oh, yeah, baby.

Oh, yeah, baby, just like that.

Oh, my God, you're an animal.

Use that tongue some.

Hard.

Oh, yes.

Oh, my.

Fuck, that's different. Oh, yeah.

Jesus, fuck. Ida?!

Oh, God!

I'm not in the mood, Ida!

Who is it?

Mr. Hodges.

Lawrence Robinson, Jerome's father.

- We met once before.
- Oh, yeah.

How you doin'?

Been better.

You, um, expecting somebody?

You never know. Come on in.

That won't be necessary.

Jerome tells me he's helping you catch

some fugitive of the law.

No. Not at all.

He's just giving me
some I.T. assistance.

Uh-huh.

You seem upset.

My son... My son has a 4.2 GPA.

He's never been in trouble,
got his whole future by the balls.

An amazing kid,

which is a bit of a miracle,

given fatherhood scared
the piss out of me.

My point is,

I jumped through every
goddamn hoop known to man

to give that boy his best shot.

"Just don't fuck it up"
has pretty much been my mantra.

A while back, it dawned on me.

It might not be me who fucks Jerome up.

Could be anybody...

a schoolteacher,

buddy, girl.

World's full of people
to fuck things up.

So I'm here to ask you
a question, Mr. Hodges.

Are you that guy?

I'll try not to fuck up your son.

Heard about what happened
the other night.

You outside with the gun.

And my concern is, you're not well.

Is anybody?

That meant to be funny?

No, sir.

I'd never do anything
to jeopardize Jerome.

You have a fine son.

Truth be told, I'm quite fond of him.

But your point is taken.

Thank you.

Enjoy your evening.

"To whom it may concern"...

"...I'd like to address you
as Mr. Mercedes,

but, alas, the jig is up.

We've had a new development.

It delights me to inform
that at approximately 11 a.m.

this morning, the actual Mercedes killer

was taken into custody.

It has not been released to the public.

The police are awaiting
further corroboration,

but, given our special relationship,

I thought I'd give you the heads up."

That's funny. That's funny.

"His name is Donald Davis.

Today's press release
will pertain to the homicide

attributed to Turnpike Joe.

Being withheld from today's
press conference

is the subject's confession

regarding the jobs fair massacre.

But we know him to be the assailant...

He had details that only the
actual killer could have had.

Police expect to announce that the case

is closed by the end of the week,

which reduces you to what
I already suspected you to be...

a fraud.

A pretender.

A nothing.

So please don't waste any more
of your energy, or my time.

I'll go about my retirement.

And you can perhaps move on.

Good night, Mr. Nothing."

Dead fuck.

You stupid,

fat,

dead fuck.

Fuck.

That fuck....

fucking with me.

She was in some discomfort,

so we had to give her a sedative.

She might be out for a bit.

We can wait.

Or we could come back
another time maybe.

Waiting's good.

She looks so frail.

Yeah.

Ollie took such good care of her.

You can really see the decline since...

Yeah. Do you think maybe
we could wait in the hall?

What's the matter?

Nothing.

I got some condition.

It's not post-traumatic.

It's... seein' dead people
puts me on a little tilt.

Thanks.

I realize your mother isn't dead,

but she was looking
the part pretty good,

One of the other consequences
of that night.

There was so much death. It was carnage.

I can't imagine.

Did you sister talk much of it?

The guilt?

Not to me.

Truth be told, I don't know
that she felt much guilt.

I think she felt oppressed... by the end.

Blamed.

I don't know that she
really felt guilty.

A man stole her car. Yeah.

Yeah, it's just if she hadn't
left the keys in the ignition...

- She didn't.
- Hmm?

- He said it in the letters.
- I don't care what he said.

He was just fucking with her mind.

My sister was many things,

honest and fastidious being two.

It's completely unlike her
to leave her keys in her car.

And if she said she didn't, she didn't.

- You're really convinced about that?
- A hundred percent.

It's just...

...the car door wasn't jimmied
or hot-wired or anything.

She didn't leave her keys
in the ignition.

Are we having a fight?

I didn't really like
your sister very much.

- I found her a bit cold.
- There's no need to explain.

You didn't like her.

Guess we are having a fight.

I didn't much like her, either.

I loved her, quite dearly.

Liking her proved...

much more difficult.

Hey, boss.

How you doing today?

Told you I hate dogs.
Especially this one.

So, listen, I did some digging

into Under Debbie's Blue Umbrella.

Definitely not a straw man,
more like a... a Yeti.

A what?

A Yeti?

Abominable Snowman.

Okay, look, whatever.
Call it what you will.

What I'm saying is, this umbrella
thing is a monster, man.

It's locked up like Fort Knox.
I've been trying to get in, but I can't.

- Shit.
- Yeah.

Listen, Jerome. The...

Your old man was by to see me.

W-What?

Yeah. He's concerned... rightly so...

that I've maybe got you
mixed up in something dangerous.

Oh.

Well, do you?

Could be.

Possibly about to become more so.

Best to stay away
for the time being, all right?

Um... oh.

Well, who's gonna mow your lawn, then?

Oh. Was thinking of getting
it paved over anyway.

Well, unless you're planning
on not communicating

with whoever this mystery person is...

I mean, you need I.T. help, Mr. Hodges.

Come on.

Well, I won't be getting it from you.

- I mean it.
- What?!

Oh, come on. Not even a hug?

One hug?

Okay. I'll settle for a Chipwich.

Come on, one Chipwich.

Ha. Thank you.

Yo.

Hey!

Hey!

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

Probably some drug dealer,

knows you're an ex-cop.

But, hey, sugar's
probably worse than drugs.

I'll catch you, Mr. Hodges.

Nothing?

No, not a chirp.

I'm surprised.

Maybe he's plotting a...
a proper response, or...

Or? Or what?

Or it's not him.

And the game's over.

No. It's him.

It has to be him.

We're both a bit desperate
for that, aren't we?

♪ Oh, yes, you are ♪

What are we up to here? You and me?

♪ Something happened, something big ♪

♪ Happened to me that day ♪

Sorry? What do you mean?

It's not like we're
on a do-good mission.

It's more like we're settling a score.

Take a killer off the street,
it does a lot of good.

That's not why we're doing it.

We're not trying to help.

It's like we both
have vengeance on the brain.

Nothing wrong with a little vengeance.

♪ Oh, yes, you are ♪

Ain't just love makes
the world go round.

You love anybody, Bill?

Feels like we're changing the subject.

Tell me about your family.

Why did you leave Ireland?

'Cause I wanted to.

I mean, I-I don't have a family.

What about your ex-wife?
What happened there?

Creative differences.

And your daughter?

♪ Something sad, something blue ♪

♪ Something lost, something I found ♪

♪ Since my woman put me down ♪

Do you know...

do you think it would be possible

your mother might rebound tomorrow?

I really want to know

what Olivia told her, you know?

Well...

overdue for a good day.

We can go back.

Good, good.

Bill?

When was the last time you danced?

I danced?

197... The '70s.

I think you're long overdue.

Come on.

Let's have a dance. Come on.

♪ ...you must face them alone ♪

Please.

♪ Please remember ♪

♪ I still want you ♪

♪ And in case you wonder why ♪

♪ Well, just wake up ♪

♪ Kiss the good life goodbye ♪

Brady?

Honey?

It's a bad one, isn't it?

Like a vise.

Oh, baby.

Come here. Come to Mama, honey boy.

Come here.

Baby. Come here.

Come on.

♪ Oh, the good life ♪

♪ Full of fun, seems to be ♪

♪ The ideal ♪

♪ Yes, the good life ♪

♪ Lets you hide
all the sadness you feel ♪

Mama's gonna make it better.

♪ You won't really fall in love ♪

♪ For you can't the chance ♪

♪ So be honest ♪

♪ With yourself ♪

♪ Don't try to fake romance ♪

♪ It's the good life ♪

♪ To be free and explore the unknown ♪

Synced & corrected by kinglouisxx
www.addic7ed.com

♪ Like the heartaches ♪

♪ When you learn
you must face them alone ♪

♪ Please remember ♪

♪ I still want you ♪

♪ And in case you wonder why ♪

♪ Well, just wake up ♪

♪ Kiss the good life goodbye ♪

♪ Please remember ♪

♪ I still want you ♪

♪ And in case you wonder why ♪

♪ Well, just wake up ♪

♪ Kiss the good life ♪

♪ Goodbye ♪