| The last horizons I can see |
| Are filled with bars and factories |
| And in them all we fight to stay awake |
| Drink enough of anything |
| To make this world look new again |
| Drunk, drunk, drunk in the gardens and the graves |
| She had nothing left to say |
| So she said she loved me |
| I stood there grateful for the lie |
| Drink enough of anything |
| To make this girl look new again |
| Drunk, drunk, drunk in the gardens and the graves |
| Turn summer trees to bones and ice |
| Turn insect songs against the night |
| With words we build and words we break |
| I’m drunk, drunk, drunk in the gardens and the graves |
| Maybe I could use you to reassure myself |
| I wouldn’t wish this indecision on anybody else |
| Drink enough of anything to make this world look new again |
| And when the sin smiles, how could it be wrong? |
| The last horizons I can see |
| Are now resigned to memories |
| I never thought I’d still be here today |
| Drink enough of anything |
| To make myself look new again |
| Drunk, drunk, drunk, in the gardens and the graves |