
Must it take a life for hateful eyes to glisten once again
‘cause we find ourselves in the same old mess singing drunken lullabies.

~ there is whiskey in the water
~ there is death upon the vine
~ there is fear in the eyes of your Father
~ there is yours and there is mine
(death cab for cutie, black sun)
I think my job turns me into somebody that can’t sit at your dinner table.