Pull up a Chair

Pull up a Chair

It's bullshit

It's all bullshit, babies

No matter how pretty we try to paint it

We're all telling the same stories

The same lies

We want to wager the suffering?

Measure the degree?

It's called life

We're all fucking living it.

I'm not going to apologize

For not having hurt as much as you

Not going to degrade my pain

Perception

It's in the eye of the beholder

Battle scars are battle scars

No matter the war.

It's all the same fight

Over and over

The end 

Written in stone

Let's tell it like it is

Over beers

In a small town washed out pub

Where they only know us both as strangers

Could care less about our stories

And

If we're really lucky

They'll save us our faces

And not even pretend to listen

As we raise our glass

To surviving another shit day.

Natasha Head