It’s easy to make friends here, in twilight Though I can hardly remember their names What time is it now? It’s time for the next round Dear jukebox, please be so kind to play Jim Alabama song
Binge! Corpse!
My sight is getting so magically blurred I cannot differ the light from the dark Hey, look over there! That man has six arms! It seems that I need a sip of fresh air. Want to go with me?
Stairs! Punch! Stars!
No, it wasn’t me, sir, I’m not the one who accidentally pushed you in the ribs And I’m astonished how recklessly my friend turns into a sworn foe. But I am proud to take a dare From your indistinct chthonic deeps And fight against the silhouette And I do not intend to stab my toe.