Dying Sunday

Towel's been tossed I feel we'll be moving on Tempting fate with a break and no more arm in arm Cheers for so what somewhat caring if you'd call But then again not at all Cuz I'm dying Sunday So start crying blood stains Pinch in a fistful of grace Cuz I'm dying Sunday Digging a hole look out below Begin to wander now began to wonder how This town is lost I'm lost and better of saving face Drink's been laced with a trace of simple R and R Chime in two cents breath mints might be your best call Or maybe speak nothing at all Commemorate choose what you say so carefully I've been giving you early warning