This is a cause for celebration
Here in the belly of the swarm
The situation demands that we raise our glasses
In honor of the spokesman we've fixated to the floor

Give us your headlines, hymns and your saddest verse
You're not partnered with the half-hearted anymore
Our legs are spread wide open
Our weary heads are splitting at the seams and we all know
You're proficient in the idioms of grief

We are capable of the kind of love
About which only the petrified can speak

Concede him the microphone
Let him sing the triumph of the frauds
To all his loyal psycho-fanatics

We all cater to the fire
Once the walls come rushing down for shame

Well, I can say it better than you felt it
I can be it bigger than you needed it
I haven't lived a day of my life
Apart from the one that everyone's read about
And I'll spark de-evolution
And I'll spark de-evolution
I was specially bred for the cover page of your magazines
And I've been fattened up for the guillotine
Fattened up for the guillotine

Sweet talker
You're goddamn right I'm a blessed lamb
And I can show you how to have a good time

And I know why you came here
But neither of us will get what you want out of me
This room has one too many laureates
I'm keeping my peace
When every candidate ends his life with a cliché
And the path of glory will lead to nowhere but the grave

Whoa-oh-oh
Whoa-oh, oh oh
Whoa-oh, oh oh, oh-whoa-oh
Whoa-oh-oh
Whoa-oh, oh oh
Whoa-oh, oh oh, oh-whoa-oh

I've been spoiled rotten
Every thought I've authored has curdled
Not everything is poetry but I can't convince you of that
I've been drawn and quartered
I've been twice picked over
And it's sickening what you've come here today to celebrate
Fuck yeah, we're gonna party tonight
Fuck yeah
We're gonna party tonight

I am capable of the kind of love
About which only
The intoxicated
And the California bound can weep