The Taste of – Fuck that, I’m not giving up.
Now you can’t blame me for enjoying a little self wallow now and then,
It helps to distill the blood,
But now that I’m back to pumping hundred-proof–
honest-to-god more flammable than a grain elevator on a dry summer day,
you and I need to have a little talk about what that shit really means.
Relationships are hard sometimes,
and they don’t always work the way we play them up in our fantasies,
and that’s damn disheartening,
it’s enough to take the bite out of anyone’s blood.
You know those things that “we’ll tell you when you’re older”?
Truth is, that’s code for we’re not gonna tell you,
You’re just gonna skate through that on your own.
The feeling of giving up,
Completely, totally, unreservedly,
Is something I’ll tell you when you’re older,
Because I’m sure as hell not old enough to know.
I know it’s hard,
Take your self wallow,
I ain’t takin’ that from you.
Get your blood back to shootin’ flames from fingertips,
The way things seem,
and the way they are,
they’re seldom the same.
Love ain’t a drink that goes bad,
It’s just one with a lot of shitty generic brands,
And no one knows what they’ve got ‘till the aftertaste kicks in.
But we’ve got hundred-proof blood, you and me,
Ain’t nothin’ gonna dilute us.
