You can chase questions down with vodka
But I can't hide the bruise
That your whiskey-fist gave me
Cuz I tried to hide the booze.
Yeah, you did that to me, baby,
And I should forgive you for that
Someday. . . .
But first:

I am gonna steal your voice
Your words, your tongue,
Your fingers and your lips like keys;
Won't you be my amphetamines?
'Cuz I have got the perfect means
For bleeding myself dry
And when I'm through you can imbue
The lieu that keeps it all on ice
You are the great rain gig in the sky—
Now listen to me vocalize.

Yeah, I don't like your friends too much
Their touch, their amber gleam
Darling, they're taking everything
That once reminded me of the good side of you
How do, Mr. Plastered?
'Cuz I have got the perfect means
For blaming it on you
Because it's true, I'm through with putting up
With this effigy of you
That is the great rain gig in the sky—
Now listen to me harmonize.

If the bottle's your new girl
The only one in the world
Have you got the grace
To tell me off to my face?

I said I'm through, so you can stalk and woo
Charon's girls and die
Just like the great rain gig in the sky—
Now listen to me caramelize.