Lyrics:

Feels like mayday disorder
Emotional rats
We're rotten vegetables
We've blackened like crispy crashed pilots
Feels like pussy vendetta
For a pity finger beg
Here comes the hopped-up driver
In her color champagne red

I don't think I'll miss the party lines
Haircuts and corduroy designs

In a house that smacks of Sodom
We'd heard it smacked of fun (Whoo-hoo)
In a useless conversation
Might as well be smacking gum
Or with the kids in corners
The amateur elite
Their habit's semi-secret
Their friends could semi-keep

Bom-bom-bom, bom-bom-bom-bom

I can see the party's winding down
Although it's barely off the ground

Now the guests are climbing on the host
Boasting one more suicide to toast
Running low on cigarettes and jokes

None of this is real, it's rented
None of this is unintended
None of this is consequential
All this so unoriginal

I can see the party's winding down
Although it's barely off the ground
I can see the party's winding down
Although it's barely off the ground
I can see the party's winding down (I can see the party's winding down)
When it's barely off the ground (Although it's barely off the ground, I can see the party's winding down)
And I don't think I'll miss those party lines (I can see the party's winding down)
Haircuts and corduroy designs (Although it's barely off the ground)
(I can see the party's winding down, although it's barely off the ground)

Dogpiles, tight clothes
White lines, white noses
I think I'll miss those party lights

I can see the party's winding down
Though it's barely off the ground
I can see the party's winding down
Though it's barely off the ground
It's winding down (I can see the party's winding down)
It's winding down