The situation demands that we raise our glasses
I honor of the spokesman we've fixated to the floor.
Give us your headlines, hymns, and your saddest verse.
You're not partnered with the half hearted anymore.
Our legs are spread wide open.
Our weary heads are splitting at the seams
And we all know your proficient in the idioms of grief.
We are capable of the kind of love about
Which only the petrified can speak.
Concede him the microphone let him sing the triumphs
Of the frauds to all his loyal sycofanatics.
We all cater to the fire once the walls come rushing down for shame.
I can say it better than you felt it.
And I can be it bigger than you needed it.
I haven't spent a day of my life apart
From the one everyone's read about.
I'll spark de-evolution.
I was specially bred for the cover page of your magazines.
I've been fattened up for the guillotines.
Sweet talker, you're goddamn right I'm a blessed lamb.
I can show you how to have a good time.
I know why you came here, but neither of us
Will get what you want out of me.
This room has one too many laureates so I'm keeping my peace.
Every candidate ends his life with a cliche,
And the paths of glory lead to nowhere but the grave.
I've been spoiled rotten.
Every thought I've authored has curdled.
Not everything is poetry but I can't convince you of that.
I've been drawn and quartered.
I've been twice picked over.
And it's sickening what you've come here today to celebrate.
Fuck yea we're gonna party tonight.
I am capable of the kind of love about
Which only the intoxicated and the California bound can weep.
Lyrics submitted by femmesofrussia
"Guitarred and Feathered" as written by Novac Buckley
Lyrics © SONGS MUSIC PUBLISHING
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