Liquor And Jazz Songtext

Give us what we need.
We need idols for us to fall from our feet,
To hit the floor and not feel a thing,
To beg for their lives or at least the slightest change in our own.
Our dreams are of being over produced.
Second hand clocks set to someone elses time,
Tick, tick ticking until our eyes match the twelve.
Our grandfathers knew better than we do,
Marking each and every hour of the day with a chime.
I set a pair of silvers aside for passing.