Lyrics
Hands slip the cotton down,
Good intentions, wrapped around your ankles,
Bracelet tangled in the fray.
Listless, roaring starlet,
The vodka tonic spilled casually,
And a laugh like breaking glass.
But everybody laughs, reserved and impartial.
You're just two drinks from heaven,
You're three sheets from hell.
You're better than gone,
It's purple haze.
You love the dancers,
You hate the craze.
You sweat the music, serpentine.
Out of step and out of time.
You're all that you can do.
But Sarah's on fire tonight,
Like one of those cars in the breakdown lane.
The neighbors all gather 'round,
To soothe the burn and feed the flames.
She's dressed to catch the eye of desperate middle age,
The losers and their wives,
And the congregation sways to the Bee Gee's wounded choir,
The ice-cubes dance.
The Dead Ones perspire, ever so slightly.
It's only a thought,
It's one drink,
One night.
It can't be helped.
We're not ourselves.
We can't be helped.
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