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so goddamn arrogant, stuck so firm in your ways
reaching for the strings that only can hypocrites play
with half as much wit as what you're supposed to
frayed and flailing from every piece of my father that drunkenness stole
but dear god, no, we simply mustn't blame the ethanol
instead it was the smoke of flowers that caused the harm
and not the other forms of toxins that came through the arms
if i stopped spending half my fortnight money on sess
maybe instead if i spent it on drink, you'd be impressed
i'm not a failure, you're just dissatisfied with your own
you've got more pulleys and screws than you've got fucking bone