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 triumphs of the frauds
To all his loyal sycofanatics

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

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 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 guillotines
Fattened up for the guillotines

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

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, so I'm keeping my peace
Every candidate ends his life with a cliche
And the paths of glory lead to nowhere but the grave

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 yea, we're gonna party tonight
Fuck yea!
We're gonna party tonight
I am capable of the kind of love
About which only the intoxicated
And the California bound can weep