My crash at 3.17 in the morning stopped being romantic last week
And now everyone's sick of me, they want to be sick when the sun's up and not before it
I try to desperately inhale the excitement
Scoop the pill up from underneath your tongue
And just let me ride it

I'm not drunk enough to be myself
Let me grab another few
Been waiting round for hours love just give me that cue
And we'll leave, and we'll sleep
Or that's what we'll tell people as we attempt to crawl inside one another and bless the sky with our exaltations