You were out before the band played your favorite from "redo the stacks". You passed out behind the curtain. Clubbing is no way to relax. On another song about ordinary days the Aztec God is what they called you anyway. Making sense is overrated and difficult. It interferes with everything you understand. Can't stand that ringing in your ears. On another Saturday at the Crystal Chandelier: the Aztec God is what they'll call you first. The Aztec God is what they'll call you sir. The Aztec God is what they call you when you're here.
Lyrics submitted by x_melancholy_x