[ Featuring John Floreani ]
Here's to the patron saint
Of rum and jumped cocaine
All those little deaths
Have grown so petulant
And now I'm not thinking straight.
Burning in the sky
For two days at a time
Oh but when I look around
It's so conspiratorial
Competitive and typical.
Oh my darlin'
There's been nothin' here
But a rumour mill so high
And wide it covered all the light
If all we have is each other
Then don't you dare look down on me
Like we're so different suddenly.
Here's to the patron saint
Of rum and jumped cocaine
Where the f*ck are all my friends?
Whats left of my common sense?
Whats left.
