Here's to the patron saint Of rum and jumped cocaine All those little deaths Have grown so petulant And now I'm not thinkin' straight Burnin' in the sky For two days at a time Oh, but when I look around It's so conspiratorial Competitive and typical Oh, my darlin' There's been nothin' here But a rumour mill so high And wide it covered all the light If all we have, is each other Don't you dare look down on me Like we're so different suddenly Here's to the patron saint Of rum and jumped cocaine Where the fuck are all my friends? What's left of my common sense? What's left?