The Farewell Party — текст песни (cursive)

Bon Voyage
And promptly he hung up the phone
There was a doorbell ringing
So he snuck out onto the terrace
He said If these were my last words,
would they even make print?
If all I had to say was simply over said
by those old heretics.
These words are counterfeit
Xeroxed off of memory
And no one`s listening
...HEY...

Twilight dawns
All the champagne is gone
All that`s left is left behind
Doorbells, still lives

Since you`re leaving
was it a hollowed out heart?
It seems like you`ve been yearning for some wordly position.
Somewhere you can curl up in a little ball.

It seems the world collapses
In the mother`s womb
The place of birth
Where we`re all condemned
It`s the warm, sad, jaded end
Starving for salvation of a terrace
Drunk, tired, and alone
Farewell dead skin

These words are second-hand
They`re dry
They`re cracked-plastic lies
They`re cheap old whores
Who wasted their lives
In search of the warmest womb