Lyrics:

I’m counting back

the number of the steps

it took for me to get

back on the wagon of the weekend



I’ll use the autotimer to prove that

I'll get home with my imagination

if they find the body in the basement

“in the very house that she was raised in!”



I’m taking down

the number of the Times

so when we get the sign

from god I’ll be the first to call them



I’m taking back the number of the beast

cause 6 is not a pretty number

8 or 3 are definitely better

a is for the address on the letter

to my alcoholic friends



I’m trying hard

not to be ashamed

not to know the name

of who is waking up beside me

or the date, the season or the city

but at least the ceilings very pretty

and if you are holding it against me



I’ll be on my best behavior

taking shots for mother nature

once my fist is in the cupboard

love is never falling over



(1,2,3,4)



should I choose a noble occupation

if I did I’d only show up late and

sick and they would stare at me with hatred

plus my only natural talent’s wasted on my alcoholic friends

my alcoholic friends

the party never ends

my alcoholic friends