21st Dead Rats

[Verse 1] You're the worst in turn, the first of the night Who could stand there staring at the blacks of your eyes? What a curious type, reaching out for the iron To never ask for a slap, but don't indulge in a smile We're twenty-first dead rats again [Verse 2] You're the worst in turn, the first of the hour I can feel it creeping on me out of the shower Like a film on a postcard, a moment entranced And with the confidence of prom queens, insist on me asking Well say it was me, who's getting sick on my jeans Just as I thought about the part that goes, "You're such a disease." Go on and call around after I've been put down So fucking empty when it hits, you'll hear a hollow sound I'm twenty-first dead rats again