Besedila: Mountain Goats, The. Dilaudid.

The reception's gotten fuzzy

The delicate balance has shifted

Put on your gloves and black pumps

Let's pretend the fog has lifted

Now you see me, now you don't

Now you say you love me

Pretty soon you won't

If we get our full three score and ten

We won't pass this way again

So kiss me with your mouth open

Turn the tires toward the street

And stay sweet



All the chickens come on home to roost

Plump bodies blotting out the sky

You know it breaks my heart in half, in half

When I see them trying to see them fly

'Cuz you just can't do things your body wasn't meant to

Hike up your fishnets, I know you

If we live to see the other side of this

I will remember your kiss

So do it with your mouth open

And take your foot off of the brake

For Christ's sake!