Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song A Pot In Which To Piss, artist - Titus Andronicus.
Date of issue: 08.03.2010
Song language: English
A Pot In Which To Piss |
«The audience was large and brilliant. |
Upon my weary heart was showered smiles, |
plaudits, and flowers, but beyond them, I saw thorns and troubles innumerable. |
It was a pretty good GPA |
We got a couple of good grades |
And it sounded like a pretty good seven inch |
And winter didn’t seem so cold |
And I had a smile for everyone I know |
I was starting to get comfortable in the place that I’m in |
And it used to not mean anything |
It used to not mean anything |
It used to not mean anything, but it really means nothing now |
Nothing means anything anymore |
Everything is less than zero |
And I know it won’t do much good |
Getting drunk and sad and singing |
But I’m at the end of my rope |
And I feel like swinging |
It was an unflattering photograph |
And people saw it all over town |
Hanging up on the wall above the urinal |
Hear the man with the notepad say |
«Oh, they’re funny, but they drink too much» |
«Don't be surprised if they don’t amount to nothing at all» |
We were talking about giving up |
We were talking about lying down |
We were talking about tying off |
Wasn’t it supposed to mean something now? |
Let them see you struggle and they’re going to tear you apart |
You ain’t never been no virgin, kid, you were fucked from the start |
They’re all going to be laughing at you |
You can’t make it on merit, not on merit and merit alone |
Dan McGee tried to tell me, «There ain’t no more Rolling Stones» |
They’re all going to be laughing at you |
I’ve been called out, cuckolded, castrated, but I survived |
I am covered in urine and excrement but I’m alive |
And there’s a white flag in my pocket never to be unfurled |
Though with their hands 'round my ankles, they bring me down for another swirl |
And they tell me, «Take it easy buddy, it’s not the end of the world!» |
«And there and then and bathed by the rising sun |
My son in his grave, in his rude-dug grave I deposited |
Ending my vigil strange with that, vigil of night and battle-field dim |
Vigil for boy of responding kisses, (never again on earth responding) |
Vigil for comrade swiftly slain, vigil I never forget, how as day brighten’d |
I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket |
And buried him where he fell.» |