This is a cause for celebration here in the belly of the swarm.
The situation demands that we raise our glasses in honour of the spokesman
Weve fixated to the floor.
Give us your headline hymns and your saddest verse.

Youre not partnered with the half-hearted anymore.
Out legs are spread wide open,
Our weary heads are splitting at the seams
And we all know youre proficient in the idioms of grief.
We are capable of the kind of love about which only the petrified can speak.
Concede him the microphone let him sing the triumph of the frauds to all his loyal sycofanatics.
We all cater to the fire, once the walls come rushing down for shame.
I can say it better than you felt it.
And I can be it bigger than you needed it.
I havent lived a day of my life apart from the one that everyones read about.
Ill spark de-evolution.
I was specially bred for the cover page of your magazines.

Ive been fatted up for the guillotines.
Sweet talker, youre godamn right Im a blessed lamb.
I can show you all how to have a good time.
I know why you came here, but neither of us will get what you want out of me.
This room has one too many laureates so Im keeping my peace.
Every candidate ends his life with a clich,
And the paths of glory lead to nowhere but the grave.

Ive been spoiled rotten.
Every thought Ive authorised had curdled.
Not everything is poetry but I cant convince you of that,
Ive been drawn and quartered.
Ive been twice picked over.
And its sickening what youve come here today to celebrate.
Fuck yeah were gonna party tonight.
I am capable of the kind of love about which
Only the intoxicated and the California bound can weep.