Apocolypse, No! - Bonnie "Prince" Billy

We dined in the breezeway

And met later in the carport for drinks

We rationed out the pills

Splitting evenly the blues and the pinks

We didn’t really split the blues

I only mean that’s what he thinks

He’s got the mother lode this time

Why, o why are best friends such finks?

We met on the causeway

Unloading all our grievances there

He pat me on the shoulder

And I playfully ruffled his hair

Then brought him to the waterline

And constrained him while he struggled for air

Then I pulled him back and kissed

And we both went arm in arm to the fair