I can feel it coming up and spreading inside of me It warms the blood and it eats away the memory From my pen you expected the sweet honey to drip But the words come out like rats leaving a sinking ship, yeah, look at them run
Your famous discretion, how you so proudly call it, Well, I'm afraid, honey, that it crumbled down to the powder in your wallet And all the different shapes and forms which you control From the whitest and purest to the whore of alcohol, ah, look at her run
