Joyce Manor - 21st Dead Rats lyrics

You're the worst in turn, the first of the night Who could stand there staring at the blacks of your eyes What a curious type, reaching out for the iron To never ask for a slap, but don't indulge in a smile We're twenty-first dead rats again You're the worst in turn, the first of the hour I can feel it creeping on me out of the shower Like a film on a postcard, a moment entranced And with the confidence of prom queens insist on me asking Say it was me, who's getting sick on my jeans, Just as I thought about the part that goes "You're such a disease" Go on and call around, after I've been put down So f**ing empty when it hits you'll hear a hollow sound I'm twenty-first dead rats again