You tell me that ya wanna go to heaven
But you run around acting like you're gonna live forever
You tell me that you're going through hell
But you're puttin' others through it

You say that I smell like I haven't had a shower in 23 days
Like an unbalanced beer can two minutes too late
A look like a stale face from a fresh grave with
A chip on my shoulder and an eye full of rage
Ca you taste that beer with your back to the bar
Can you smell a cigarette without letting down your guard?

Ten cans, 4 A.M. friends, the sad thing is that you'
Vre always been like this
Moaning in a bed shaped like a hearse
Believe the lies that you tell yourself (and it'll never get worse)
You tell me that my problem is thinking
But I can chase it away with a problem like drinking
(Chris doing a Sean nader-esque scream)

You tell me you don't wanna get old
But you've got a party on the line and a grave on hold
Like a drunk operator, like a game of roulette
Like a martini balanced on a whiffle ball bat

When a hard wind blows it's gonna fall down
When the wind blows there'll be broken glass all around
Like a bright shiny apple with a worm inside
Believe the lies that you tell yourself. This is the only way to die