 To bury the sun
So a pyrrhic victory
Poetry in the shape of her hair
They get you like that, you should always beware
Beautiful was too clumsy a word
To touch such poetry it's fucking absurd
What were you thinking?
Just keep on drinking
Whiskey tastes better
We are the cracked, we are the shattered
We judge our competence by broken or battered
You're On The Edge? Well Take My Hand
And we'll put our best feet Forwards
We are the cracked, we are the shattered
We judge our competence by broken or battered
You're On The Edge? Well Take My Hand
And we'll put our best feet Forwards
All the parts of you that believed
In the tender times that dared to hope
Take them to the river like orphans in the sack
And drown them
Counting the time it takes to severe
Dying hands were to been joined forever
Oh god sometimes there IS NOT enough drink in the world
Sever the ties, damned be the past
You always know that hope never lasts
Whiskey tastes better when you've nothing left to lose
We are the cracked, we are the shattered
We judge our competence by broken or battered
You're On The Edge? Well Take My Hand
And we'll put our best feet Forwards
All the parts of you that believed
In the tender times that dared to hope
Take them to the river like orphans in the sack
And drown them
We'll render pure
We'll castrate
Shut up you stupid fuck it's all too late
It's always too fucking late
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