I'll share my bottle with you
For a conversation about history,
An attempt to resolve the mystery
Of whatever the fuck this is.

You can drink me under the table,
Take advantage of my addiction,
Interrogate me, destroy the fiction
Of whatever the fuck this is.

Listen to the hiss of friendship,
Though I know you'd rather be fucking about
With your on-demand super-busy boy scout
Or whatever the fuck he is.

One is happy, two's determined,
By bottle three reach a rubicon,
And if they were magnums I'd be gone
To whatever the fuck I miss.

How can I ask you to promise
When there's no way I'll do the same,
Follow you home or take the blame
For whatever the fuck this is?