“Red, like the color of the bars we once drank to?”
Bars, what bars?
“Remember, dear; the cabins you’d cruise?”
You mean with neon-red lights, and a martini night vibe
And tall ferns next to statues
Of little Buddha?
Where the reverb was fuzz, and the mojitos were made well
And the bass never died
Over Bose speakers?
Either you’re drunk or I’m sober (“What?”)
I said either you’re drunk or I am sober

(“Drink, drink, drink, drink
Drink, drink, drink, drink…”)

“Drink with me, sex
I want a toast to the good life!”
We’re like angels who party brat-naked
And the youth will go on to feel it
Because our beat drops so dramatic
And our drama vibes so organic
Images cut out of “Vogue” magazine
I want Warhol to direct the lyrics
Drag Ellington out here to hear it!
But first cut his rag through Scrillex
“Queer is the world through red and black crinkles
Paint a collage of New Jazz sprinkles…”
(“Drink, drink, drink, drink
Drink, drink, drink, drink…”)

“That’s the past now, here’s what’s different—”
Yeah? Lay it on me
“This time our bar’s a ‘be-yourself’ establishment”
You mean red and white’s in charge?
“Be yourself—just think different”?
Old tempers flarin’ out, of new disappointments?
Because weirdness is back, and the kids are composed well
And “Woman is God” is a true statement?
Either you’re a scientist or I’m over (“What?”)
I said either you’re a scientist or I am over

(“Drink, drink, drink, drink
Drink, drink, drink, drink…”)

“Drink with me, bestie
You’re like ‘toast to the new life!’”
Spinner of high sins of sanctimony
And the youth’ll go on to feel it
If your beat drops stay this dramatic?
And your chaos shimmer this organic?
Images cut out of “Spin” magazine
I want prints of girls you never hearda
Drag a viral star out to make fun of
But first send ’em through summa your sermons
“Queer is the world through Polaroid crinkles
Paint a collage of Holier-Than-Thou sprinkles…”
(“Drink, drink, drink, drink
Drink, drink, drink, drink…”)

Loom in the night of our postmodern dystopia
Pay bankers to sleep well
Vicarious stimuli for a vicarious utopia
But we can’t turn wars
Into Lana Del Rey’s first single?
Loot in the night of our postmodern beatopia
Pay baddies to dream well
Vicarious stimuli for a vicarious utopia
But we can’t turn wars
Into Lana Del Rey’s first single?

(“Drink, drink, drink, drink
Drink, drink, drink, drink…”)

“Holier than thou? What, like you tryin’ to be Jesus?”
(Drink, don’t think!)
“Sex? Wrong about that, we don’t have any”
Lather your enemies in dank memes and alcohol
Simulate your steam
Enhanced by Adderall
Your bitterness never dries, I climax all the time
Slip your fingers on me like crystals
Like tickles overlayin’ tickles (mmph)
Either you’re Biblical now or I’m over (“What?”)
I said either you Biblical now or I’m over, bitch
(“Drink, drink, drink, drink
Drink, drink, drink, drink…”)

“Drink with me, sleazies
I want a toast from the century!”
I’m like a prophet who speaks eazy to sheeple
And my mind is for chasin’ the steeple
Where the beat drops this dramatic
And my ardor vibes this organic?
Images out of clipped 2Pac posters
“Put some books on the shelves out here, baby!”
But first color them with dedication
“Queer is the world of red and black crinkles
Paint a collage of End Times sprinkles”

(“Drink, drink, drink, drink
Drink, drink, drink, drink…”)

Paint a collage of New Jazz sprinkles
(Where the beat drops this dramatic
And my dramas so true organic…)

[Jazz outro]