Nixon:Salut

Take that gun out of your mouth. Have a drink on the house. Get a rope, take a breath and let your toes swing across the bedroom carpet. Changes lanes; take a shot on the rocks, brace yourself for the crash, and pump the brakes to the beat of that dream you though you always wanted. Tonight we'll swallow our rations come to our senses and prove this is only fun if one of us ends up eventually missing an eye; Last call at the pharmacy. So string me out and fix my mistakes. Load me up. Make me whole. Which pill will you swallow the fastest? Which pill will you ride to the grave? Which pill will you let tie the rope around your neck? Which pill fills their pockets the quickest? Which poll will they put in your mouth? Which poll will they give to make everything all betteR? So string me out and fix my mistakes. Load me up. Make me whole. Drug me until I'm sick enough. Drug me; spit me out. And I'll feel alright...

(lyrics by Matt Haas).