The Farewell Party Songtext
von Cursive

Barbed wires
And proudly he hung up the phone
There was a doorbell ringing
So he snuck out onto the terrace
He said, "If these were my last words
Would they even make print?
If all I had to say
Was simply oversaid
By those old heretics"


These words are counterfeit
Xeroxed off the memory
And no one′s listening
Twilight dawns
All the champagne is gone
All that's left is left behind
Doorbell still lies
Since you′re leaving

Was it a hollowed-out heart?
Seems you've been searching for some worldly possession
Somewhere you can curl up in a little ball

I found the one who lapses
In the furthest womb
The source of birth
Where we all connect
It's the warm city
Starving for salvation
Until it′s drunk, tired, and alone
Farewell, dead skin

These words are second-hand
They′re dry, they're cracked plastic lies
They′re cheap, old whores
They're wasting their lives
In search of the warmest womb