Whitmer Thomas - What A Pal lyrics

We'd laugh about suicide
And it nicked on the chin
Like a blade of gentle reveries
That sweet sacrament
And daylight sang slow demise
Long before you went
I've lost a lot of buddies
But this one hit different

Bound by drunken bravery
And deserved confidence
Pickin' fights with the boyfriends
Of the girlfriends hecklin'
And somewhere, some yuppy
In Silver Lake still can't forget
The timе he chased you off the stagе
'cause you called him a stupid bitch
Mhm

And memories become lullabies
We all hum over the phone
The last time we saw Dick
Was there somethin' we coulda done?
He was a pocketful of ecstacy
A cigarette break
A weekend with no plans but
To get fucked up and make mistakes

Tumblin' across the stage
A big showcase in Montreal
Desperate for a laugh
He'd rip his heart out and show us all
On the sea, in a storm
He was a captain without a map
Oh, death is deadly serious
There's somethin' funny about that

What a pal
A fuck-up through and through
On a dim stage with a broken mic
We'd all laugh with you
What a pal, born in a dunce hat
The last to leave the party
And the first to say "congrats, "
Yep

Charisma like lightning
Crammed into a beer can
Body language like a toddler trapped
In a thirty-seven year old man
I met you in Portland
You were dressed in a bear suit
Committing too hard to a stupid bit
Irreverent while resolute

And time flashed quicker like
Fireworks on the Fourth of July
Every joke was a finale
And if he bombed, at least he tried
Scrollin' through the eulogies
Sincere and delicate
You'd hate this kind of attention, man
There's somethin' funny about that

What a pal
A fuck-up through and through
On a dim stage with a broken mic
We'd all laugh with you
What a pal, born in a dunce hat
The last to leave the party
And the first to say "congrats"

And I ain't one for religion
But when it's rainin', you're spittin'
When there's thunder, you're chucklin'
And when it's humid, you're fuckin'
Only tools can hack it in Tinseltown
And we're all in line for the carousel
Of clowns

Like little flowers growin'
In guns along the LA river
On a lineup of imbittered copycats
You were that hopeful sliver
When the apocalypse is over
We will become vampire bats
And reminisce about the good old days
Our irises bathed in black

So bang one out for us
Dick, you're the [?]
And you're gone, oh man
Why'd you have to go?
And images become Polaroids
Succumb to the shake
And you become a feeling
A reminder to misbehave

What a pal
A fuck-up through and through
On a dim stage with a broken mic
We'll be missin' you
What a pal, born in a dunce hat
So you finally left the party
There's somethin' funny about that
What a pal, what a pal