I'm counting back the number of the steps
It took for me to get back on the wagon of the weekend

I'll use the autotimer to prove that i'll get on with my imagination
If they find the body in the basement
"In the very house that she was raised in!"

I'm counting down
The number of the Times
So when we get the sign from god
I'll be the first to call

Well I'm taking back the number of the beast
'Cause six is not a pretty number
Eight or three are definitely better
A is for the address on the letter
To my alcoholic friends

I'm trying hard not to be ashamed
Not to know the name of who is waking up beside me
Or the date, the season, or the city
But at least the ceiling's very pretty
And if you are holding it against me

I'll be on my best behaviour
Taking shots for mother nature
Once my fist is in the cupboard
Love is never falling over

Should I choose a noble occupation?
If I did I'd only show up late and sick
And they would stare at me with hatred
Plus, my only natural talent's wasted on
My alcoholic friends
My alcoholic friends
The party's never over
My alcoholic friends