Song Lyrics

Walking up to me expecting
Walking up to me
Expecting words
It happens all the time

Present company excepted
Present company
Accept the worst
It happens every night

Ah-ah, ah-ah
Present company
Excluded every time

Ah-ah, ah-ah
Present company
The best that you can find

Talking like a jerk
Except you are an actual jerk
And living proof
That sometimes friends are mean

Present company expect it
Present company
Just laugh it off
It's better than it seems

Ah-ah, ah-ah
Present company
Excluded in every way

Ah-ah, ah-ah
Present company
Makes me wanna stay

Killing it with close inspection
Killing it can only make it worse
It sort of makes it breathe

Present company accepting
Presently we all expect the worst
It works just like a need

Ah-ah, ah-ah
Present company
Excluded in the night

Ah-ah, ah-ah
Present company
Included in the fight

Ah-ah
Ah-ah
Ah, ah-ah

Don't you want for me to wake up?
Then give me just a bit of your time
Arguments are made for make outs
So give it just a little more time

We've got to bring our resources
I wanna play it 'til the time comes
Forget your string of divorces
Just go and throw your little hands up

It's late
Oh
Honey, it's late
Oh

I miss the way the night comes
With friends who always make it feel good
This basement has a cold glow
Though it's better than a bunch of others

So go and dance yourself clean
Go and dance yourself clean, yeah
You're blowing Marxism to pieces
Baby, their arguments to pieces

It's your show
It's your show
It's your show
It's your show
It's your show

Put your little feet down
I'm hiding out

Every night's a different story
It's a thirty car pile-up with you
Everybody's getting younger
It's the end of an era, it's true

And you go
Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop

Break me into bigger pieces
So some of me is home with you
But wait until the weekend
And we can make our bad dreams come true

And it's a-go
Yeah, it's a-go
And if we wait until the weekend
We can miss the best things to do

You go and dance yourself clean
Gotta dance yourself clean, yeah
And blow the Marxism to pieces
Their little arguments to pieces

Oh

Wish you'd try a little harder
In the tedious march of the few
Every day's a different warning
There's a part of me hoping it's true

James Jeremiah Murphy