Besedila: Bright Eyes. Padraic My Prince.

I had a brother once, he drowned in a bathtub before he'd ever learned how to talk.
And I don't know what his name was, but my mother does.
I heard her say it once.
Padraic my prince, I've all but died from the sheer weight of my shame.
You cried but no one came, and the water filled your tiny lungs.
Appear my dear and cry for me, it was six years ago today, that I laid you in your grave.
Your sweet young skin was shining then too.
So tonight to celebrate, I will, I will poison myself.
Another coughing, shaking fit in a bathroom that is spinning.
I close the door and I rest my head on the tile floor, sickness and sleep turning me cold.
And I'm still not sure,
is there is some better place I could be heading towards,
where the selfishly sick and self-absorbed are welcome?

I saw the future once, I was drunk in a phone booth.
My eyes were wet and red, but I could not tell what was said.
And through the screams of the traffic, voices carried saying I'm sorry.
On a day so gray it's black inside, watching churches on TV.
In a coma you don't dream, you just hope that someone sits with you.
Babies turn blue when they're ignored like the sky on summer days, before you turn and walk away.
It has changed you.

So tonight to celebrate, I will, I will poison myself.
Another coughing, shaking fit in a bathroom that is spinning.