I can feel it coming up and spreading inside of me It warms the blood and it eats away the memory From my pen you expected the sweet honey to drip Oh but the words come out like rats leaving a sinking ship Yeah look at them run Your famous discretion, how you so proudly call it Well, I'm afraid, honey, that it crumbled down to the powder in your wallet And all the different shapes and forms which you control From the whitest and purest to the who*e of alcohol Ah look at her run We'll get to know your sad side, again (x4)