C¡¯mon we¡¯re young, we¡¯re young
|
Yet we¡¯ll be dead as soon
|
C¡¯mon we came, we came
|
From our mother¡¯s womb to swoon
|
|
Brave Bulging Buoyant Clairvoyants
|
Adopting this young spirit of sin
|
To make the most, before we turn to ghost
|
Before, old friend, life¡¯s just a means to an end
|
To make the most, before we turn to ghost
|
|
Swig the bottle, bottle
|
Slap the face of Aristotle
|
Race me, Race me, Race me, Race me
|
In yer fourth hand jalopy
|
|
Brave Bulging Buoyant Clairvoyants
|
Adopting this young spirit of sin
|
To make the most, before we turn to ghost
|
Before, old friend, life¡¯s just a means to an end
|
To make the most, before we turn to ghost
|
|
My mother, she said, ¡°you don¡¯t delve in taboo¡±.
|
But mother, my moribund will come
|
|
When I¡¯m through with taboo
|
|
Brave Bulging Buoyant Clairvoyants
|
Adopting this young spirit of sin
|
To make the most, before we turn to ghost
|
Before, old friend, life¡¯s just a means to an end
|
To make the most, before we turn to ghost
|
|
That sink and pull in the guts
|
That¡¯s this foolhardy flux
|
|
-----------------
|
Brave Bulging
|
Wild Beasts |