laugh about suicide
and it nicked us on the chin
Like a blade of gentle reveries,
that sweet sacrament
And daylight sang slow demise
long before it went
I've lost a lot of buddies,
but this one it different
Bound by drunken bravery,
undeserved confidence
Picking fights with the boyfriends
of the girlfriends heckling
And somewhere,
some yuppie in Silver Lake still can't forget
The time he chased you off the stage
Cause you called him a stupid bitch
And memories become lullabies
We all hum over the phone
The last time we saw Dick
Was the something we could have done
It was a pocket full of ecstasy
A cigarette break
A weekend with no plans
But to get fucked up and make mistakes
Tumbling across the stage
A big showcase in Montreal
Desperate for a laugh,
he'd rip his heart out and show us all
On the sea, in a storm,
he was a captain without a map
Our death is deadly serious,
there's something funny about that
What a pal, a fuck -up through and through
On a dim stage with a broken mic,
we'd all laugh with you
What a pal, born in a dunce hat
The last to leave the party,
and the first to say congrats
Charisma like lightning
crammed into a beer can
Body language like a toddler
trapped in a 37 year old man
I met you in Portland,
you were dressed in a bear suit
Committing too hard to some stupid bit,
irreverent while resolute
And time flashed quicker,
like fireworks on the 4th of July
Every joke was a finale,
and if he bombed at least he tried
Scrolling through the eulogies,
sincere and delicate
You'd hate this kind of attention,
man,
there's something funny about that
What a pal, a fuck -up through and through
On a dim stage with a broken mic,
we'd all laugh at you
What a pal, born in a dunce hat
The last to leave the party
and the first to say congrats
And I ain't one for religion
But when it's raining, you're spitting
When there's thunder, you're chuckling
And when it's humid, you're fucking
Only tools can hack it in Tinseltown
And we're all in line for the
Carousel of Clown s
Like little flowers grown in gardens
along the L .A. River
On a lineup of embittered copycats,
you were that hopeful sliver
When the apocalypse is over,
we will become vampire bats
And reminisce about the good old days,
our irises bathed in black
So bang one out for a stick,
you're the good old green goat
And you're gone, oh man,
where'd you have to go?
And images become polaroids,
succumb to the shake
And you become a feeling,
a reminder to misbehave
What a pal, a fuck -up through and through
On a dim stage with a broken mic,
we'll be missing you
What a pal, born in a dunce hat
So you fi nally left the party,
there's something funny about that
What a pal, what a pal
I think you can use maybe
small pound jugs,
like there's kind of more in there,
but I I we need a little bigger ball.
Like a founder of bad jokes.
I don't know.
Anyway, I don't know.
I'll see you when go.