Boys Night Out The Fine art of Making it out Alive Letras:
Kiss me on the forehead, angel, before I go to
sleep. I can't remember if it's Thursday or
December. I've been keeping track of days by
counting hangovers and bottles on my floor. My
mangled memory is making me mistake misfortune for
forgiveness. I don't think I'll make it out alive.
So promise me that you'll survive to bury me. Just
empty all the alcohol and chronicle the chemicals,
but don't forget the cigarettes. Remember every
ember. Alright, I admit that past few months were
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broken and abused. Now I'm used to the bleeding
and unspoken words that kept me so confused. Maybe
we can get past these addictions, but the bodies
piling up are a whole other story unless your
stomach's strong enough. Hell, maybe we can just
pretend that this recovery, won't depend on
moderation and in the end the same routine won't
leave me dead. Just empty all the alcohol...or
baby, we're dead. Tomorrow we'll wake up in time
to stop this double suicide through kisses laced
with cyanide and one last look through blood shot
eyes. I guess this is what they call killing
yourself in small doses.
Letras: The Fine art of Making it out Alive Boys Night Out [final]