I set down a bucket to collect the rain water
From the hole in the ceiling, it feels like I've slaughtered
My chance at a warm night because I was too cold yesterday
So ring every alarm and follow me up to the roof
To gaze upon the city where we've got nothing to lose
Calling out the empty threats, the devil's not here anyway
You and I are doing well
In our own circle of hell
The devil asked for favors, I'll pretend I never heard her
I already started drinking, it feels like I murdered
My chance at a good night's sleep, but you know how these f*cking weekdays go
Nights like this on paper, man it feels like we've been had
But at the end of it all, it's really not so bad
So pour another drink for me, the best defense against the moving cold
You and I are doing well
In our own circle of hell
Or well enough, well enough anyway
When I'm gone I know you'll miss me
But until then I've got this whiskey
Hurry back so we can run
By that time I will be drunk
On a standard scale from one to ten, I will always say ten
You and I are doing well
In our own circle of hell
You and I are going to hell
Just as long as you're there as well