Lyrics: Neal Keating/Adam Garrett/Fiachra Kinder/Rafino Miguel Murphy
Music: Neal Keating/Adam Garrett/Fiachra Kinder/Rafino Miguel Murphy
Everybody’s got problems
All my friends are mad ****ed up
I’ve got mates that sell kilos
Even I made a drop once
Every human’s got issues
I’ve got friends that do coke tonnes
There’s no such thing as a hero
Best of luck on the job front
I went and picked up a J1
I headed straight for San Francisco
I was with a couple of day 1’s
There’s no doubt that we were on a mission
It’s kind of hard to find a day job
When getting drunks your intuition
Mission district strip club
We didn’t have a pot to piss in
I haven’t popped a Xanax since my son was born
I think that I was only taking them cus’ my heart was sore
I used to fall apart on my apartment floor
You watched me fall apart
Are we ex best friends or are we meant to be beefing?
Cus’ I passed you in the street and you looked mentally beaten
I’ve got a pile of your old books that I’m meant to be reading
Everybody’s got a book that they’re meant to be reading
You don’t look the way I dreamed
I fantasize of all the towns we’ll never leave
We might never leave here.