because of the flickering lights that told us to stop and
the walking sticks that told us to rock
the black road that led to your house
and the bright road that turned me away

the national fuck up that that walked of the edge
and the remote sun that started to rise
the screwdriver that stabed me in the chest the way it\'s done in bad films

i wouldn\'t change one thing that i\'ve done the last 1873 years

but that\'s why i don\'t care when you die

that\'s why i\'m still doing stuff that makes no sense


where did my friends go tonight?