Lawrence Arms - The Corpses Of Our Motivations

Catching up in the basement that I call home.
Dismantling discussions on a piss-soaked telephone.
I'm all grown up.
I've thrown up theses feelings lots before.
You're sitting the park while I'm staring at the door.
I've waterlogged and choked.
Enough self-mutilation. I've water-logged and choked.
One hundred beers another week ensconced in yellow smoke.
I'm no devil, I just have these demons keeping me awake,
pushing at my go-leg, laughing at cut brakes.
The corpse of my motivation hangs in the closet next to skeletons
and bloody vampire fangs.
Sleep all day, drink the life away.
It's another step closer to the comfort of the grave.
This coffin's full of nails, rails and pipe and glass,
rotting under yellow growing grass.
Five in the chamber and I'm flying through the air.
I've tied my blind fold tightly, I'm cutting my hair.
I'm a bullet and a target, and I'm drenched splattered blood.
I've learned my lesson once, but once isn't enough.
So dry your hand, wash 'em clean of me.
Wave your victor's flay on your pile of debris because when you die a
hero, you live like a slave.
I'd rather die to see it change than live and watch it stay
the watch where the corpses of our motivations
hang on the gallows over-ripe with shit like colostomy
bags (pie anyone?)
Sleep all day, drink the life away.
It's another step closer to the comfort of the grave.
This coffin's full of nails, rails and pipe and glass,
rotting under yellow growing grass.
there's party in the woods and a dance in the city streets and a rumble down
the avenue of fifty thousand stomping feet.
And the fire is getting high igniting sweaty powdered brows.
And if he hasn't saved you yet, he isn't gonna save you now,

Sleep all day, drink the life away.
It's another step closer to the comfort of the grave.
Sleep all day, drink the life away.
It's another step closer to the comfort of the grave.
Sleep all day, drink the life away.
It's another step closer to the comfort of the grave.

and you're more than on the day that we first met.
My angel of the not yet buried dead.