Sinking Ship - Atlas Losing Grip

I can feel it coming up and spreading inside of me

It warms the blood and it eats away the memory

From my pen you expected the sweet honey to drip

Oh but the words come out like rats leaving a sinking ship

Yeah look at them run

Your famous discretion, how you so proudly call it

Well, I’m afraid, honey, that it crumbled down to the powder in your wallet

And all the different shapes and forms which you control

From the whitest and purest to the whore of alcohol

Ah look at her run

We’ll get to know your sad side, again (x4)