A Brief Tutorial in Bachanalia (Cigarettes As Currency) - Fear Before The March of Flames

«Hey man, heard you’re a real clean shot!»

(When I’ve got a couple drinks in me, and I’ve got a couple drinks in me!)

«Hey man, heard you get the job done!»

(When I’ve got a couple drinks in me, I’m known to practice apathy!)

When you see me stagger

Know I’m being antagonized by what you can’t hear

And just moving with the current

Current state of self embalment

Where I don’t involve myself in human affairs

Just leave me an address on where I live

I’ll make it slow and painful

I don’t ask for much

(They will lead us out of town, straight out of town

We can dodge the freight cars, just passerbys in the morning)

A few bills, and the occasional, occasional, occasional human touch

(I won’t move if you won’t move, and I won’t move if you won’t move

Trade cigarettes for stories, you and I the Lords of the Rails

Straight out of town and that is why we follow the pennies lay for we have

stories and smokes)

Drink to take the edge off

I told you that I’d bring you my head

I told you I was better off dead

Have you heard the kind of shit that I’ve said?

Cause I’m a mad, mad man, no, I’m not a mad man

I told you if you slipped me a drink…

I told you not to speak when I’m thinking

I told you I was having a hard time sleeping

I’m a sad, sad man, yeah I’m a real sad man!

There’s empty bar stools

(To each of my sides)

And empty glasses

(So who the fuck’s talking?)

And who’s covering the tab?

Just a lonely man with a deathwish

(And a head full of crossed wires)

Making a deal with himself

(He keeps talking)

He keeps nodding

You do this to yourself, old man

A SICK SON OF A BITCH

WILL ALWAYS END LIKE THIS