Genetic Perfection

Drink up,
last call,
don't forget to drink it all.

Smoke up,
pass it on,
have a hit on this bong.

We're a generation born to be fucked,
a generation born with the shittest of luck.
An era of children masquerading as art,
an age of humans nobody can tell apart.

She's got your eyes,
he's got your nose,
I've got their fingers,
she's got our toes.

Drink up, little man,
there's not much time to go,
Death is riding fast and you're drinking far too slow.

You're the messiah of a broken year,
the saviour of all without fear.
You've seen it all and done it all,
the t-shirt's hanging on your bedroom wall.

Tell us stories of your past,
stories that were made to last.

Drink up, father-figure,
Death is almost at your door,
drink up, Daddy.
Daddy, please get off the floor.