There’s a party out on Juno beach
but I can’t face going outside.
The wet rag just might hear me preach
that I like my sentiments dry.
I would lash out with my confidence…
But waking up set fire to mine.

I would break if I were only one…
But life is numbers, and I can’t count to one!
Do I have no shame!?

Oh, I’ve jacked my trumpet so many times this week
it can’t hold a tune.
Oh, I would spit my melody to you my darling
but I don’t have the brass to sing to you.
I give you my instrument darling, you know…
But a heartless bitch set fire to that too.


Oh, why not just throw me inside of a padded cell
if this is the price of your rent?
The whiskey just don’t do enough
to make a poor man forget…
That life costs half the price of being honest.

The wide eyed child remains, but all that’s left is shame.
As presence turns to past, time just breaks like glass.
It might be the same on that gravy train…

But anything’s greener than burnt grass.