no not on my funeral suit- thats the last time im going to a wetherspoons

i reckon that i dont know

what could be said

we're all numb and cold

i dont remember where i come from

what will my story hold?

 

all of my friends

are lost to dreams and snow

and i have my lucid moments

from all those years ago

its bad when you miss it

its worse when you know

 

the overdosed friends

only mentioned in lyrics

an obituary's just another song

masked behind the crowds grieving

 

i have a funeral suit

i pretend to be profound

every terror has meaning,

and meaning is terrible

if it looks like it did

so many years ago

 

ideation has melody

and it sounds better as a song

you can iron your suit

but you cant ever put it on

 

booze doesnt roll cleanly 

off our rental trophies of growth

stains are our stories

and bent pillar friends

dont wear suits at all

 

and you can iron your suit,

but you will never put it back on