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It's funny how we end up at Christian's
house any time we're gonna go out.
We've usually run out of alcohol but it
usually doesn't matter that much.
Most of us are cheap drunks anyway, fucked
up from two beers at the bar.
But if you're not then remember it's Christian's
house any you can always have a toke.
Night-time lazing on the couch, then we'll
drive too far for pizza that's crap 'cos we always get hungry at Christian's
house.
You'd think we would've figured that out.
And we'll dribble shit for hours, talking 'bout pretty much anything, about six or seven of us.
Drunken deep and meaningful in Christian's
house's lounge room.
It's OK, You can crash the night and you
look so fucked that you should.
With our throughts shot to shit at half
past one, he'll pull out his accoustic guitar and we'll all try to sound
like Radiohead.
Sounds like shit but it always does.
Then we'll start to bitch about all our
absent friends or acquaintences, who ever we want because none of this
will ever leave Christian's house and he's an honest looking kind of bloke.
Three thirty and I'm feeling pretty fucking
fucked and I quite eloquently say just that.
And 'cos tonight I'll be staying at Christian's
house, I pass out on Miley's left leg again.
Oh, I'll wake up at lunch time and I'll have to leave in about ten minutes because Christian's about to go out.
Drunken deep and meaningful in Christian's
house's lounge room.
It's OK, You can crash the night and you
look so fucked that you should.
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