Paroles de Apocalypse, No!

We dined in the breezeway And met later in the carport for drinks We rationed out the pills Splitting evenly the blues and the pinks We didn't really split the blues I only mean that's what he thinks He's got the mother lode this time Why, o why are best friends such finks ? We met on the causeway Unloading all our grievances there He pat me on the shoulder And I playfully ruffled his hair Then brought him to the waterline And constrained him while he struggled for air Then I pulled him back and kissed And we both went arm in arm to the fair