All my dead friends, three deep to the bar.
It'd be so easy to be where they are.
But I'm pulling pints; lining up picklebacks.
I scratch through the tax stamps on each Evan that's cashed.
All my friends are sweet. They're dying to see me.
Read MoreAll my dead friends, three deep to the bar.
It'd be so easy to be where they are.
But I'm pulling pints; lining up picklebacks.
I scratch through the tax stamps on each Evan that's cashed.
All my friends are sweet. They're dying to see me.
Read More