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