Sydney - Agnes Manners, John Floreani

Here’s to the patron saint

Of rum and jumped cocaine

All those little deaths

Have grown so petulant

And now I’m not thinking straight

Burning in the sky

For two days at a time

Oh but when I look around

It’s so conspiratorial

Competitive and typical

Oh my darlin'

There’s been nothin' here

But a rumour mill so high

And wide it covered all the light

If all we have is each other

Then don’t you dare look down on me

Like we’re so different suddenly

Here’s to the patron saint

Of rum and jumped cocaine

Where the fuck are all my friends?

Whats left of my common sense?

Whats left