The swing set is rusted, the picture frame's cracked
The photos have faded to gray
The faces you trusted just never came back
Yes, childhood has eroded away
The songs that your mother sang as she rocked you to sleep
You howl out of tune when you're drunk
Wear good shoes on these streets or you'll soon cut your feet
On a piece of a broken cup
After so many Johns and Janes have stained your sheets
Is it habit or thirst fills your glass?
After so many pipers have played on these streets
Who is missed more, our children or the rats?
Yes we've traded our toy choo-choo trains and rosary beads
For a bottle of gin and a fuck
Now we sit 'round the bar, proud of how bored we are
As we sip from our broken cup
We sing everything, everything, everything is now permitted
All the oaths we've taken have been graciously forgotten
And every sin, every sin is now forgiven
And every sip somehow tastes rotten
So let's drink to the men who forgot what they lost
They wear the best shoes that money can buy
And a toast to impotence, to cowardice and sloth
Nothing matters, don't bother to try
And three cheers for Mary, our virgin, our whore
If she favors you it's just bad luck
Now I'll lift up my glass to a life on our ass
Brothers, raise your cup high while your waiting to die
May we all find a trace, a faint echo of grace
Through the crack in our broken cup