Whiskey Whiskey

Whiskey, whiskey
 No ice in my whiskey, please
 The plane lurches
 My stomach flips and I
 Look to the cabin crew for
 Signs of concern
 But they don't give much away
 I am an Ulster man
 A goddamn liberal
 A man of reason
 Oh, the little things we tell ourselves
 To give us back a bit of meaning
 I mean, God's been dead for a while
 So if there's nowhere for our
 Souls to go then
 I don't wanna be so sober, so
 Whiskey, whiskey
 No ice in my whiskey, please
 ♪
 Wouldn't take a genius to work it out
 I've had my fair share of conversations
 With twisted metal and broken glass
 Well, if lightning's gonna strike me twice
 This time, I'm gonna do it right
 Whiskey, whiskey
 No ice in my whiskey, please
 Whiskey, whiskey
 No ice in my whiskey, please
 I ain't gonna die sober, no
 ♪
 The plane lurches
 My stomach flips and I
 Look to the cabin crew for
 Signs of concern
 But they don't give much away