21st Dead Rats

21st Dead Rats - Joyce Manor

You're the worst in turn

The first of the night

Stand there staring

At the blacks of your eyes

What a curious type

Oh reaching out for the iron

To never ask for a slap

But don't indulge in a smile

We're twenty-first dead rats again

You're the worst in turn

The first of the hour

I can feel it creeping on me out of the shower

Like a film on a postcard

A moment entranced

And with the confidence of prom

Queens insist on me asking

Oh Say it was me

Who's getting sick on my jeans

Just as I thought about the part that goes

"You're such a disease"

Go on and call around

After I've been put down

So f**king empty when it hits

You'll hear a hollow sound

I'm twenty-first dead rats again