Now I don’t know, but I’ve been told that when we all get old, we would wish that we had died when we were young.
So I think that I’ll live fast. I think I’ll have another glass, and I’ll not regret a single word I’ve sung.
Now I know that’s not true. I rationalize when I’m blue and try to find ways to forget who I am.
But let the truth be told: you will never save my soul, because I can’t learn what I already understand.
So please turn out the light. I won’t be coming home tonight. I might stumble your way in the dawn,
I might try to sleep it off. I might try to get more lost. But I will not examine what I’ve done.
Now I know there’ll come a day when I’ll be sick at what I’ve said, and I’ll be staring down the barrel of my sins.
But days they come and go, and regret’s a bore, you know. So tomorrow I’ll be on that horse again.
Save you solemn sermons for the damned. Tonight I invite you to my holy land.
So you can judge me if you like while you live your fruitful life, and you’ll probably be proved right in the end.
But you’ll miss me when I’m dead, because I’m more fun than all your friends. So tonight let’s have a glass and make amends.
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