| Bm | A | |
| Here I sit | at the fire |
| G | F#m | G | F#m | E | |
| Liquor's bitter flames | warm | my la | nguid s | oul |
| Bm | A | |
| Here I drink alone | and remember |
| G | F#m | G | F#m | E | |
| A graven life, the s | tain | of he | r memor | y |
| In this cup, love's poison |
| For love is the poison of life |
| Tip the cup, feed the fire, |
| And forget about useless fucking hope |
| CHORUS |
| Bm | A | G | Bm | |
| Lost in the d | esolation | of l | ove |
| The passions we reap and sow |
| Lost in the desolation of life |
| This path that we walk |
| VERSE2 |
| Here's to love, the sickness |
| The great martyr of the soul |
| Here's to life, the vice |
| The great herald of misery |
| In this cup, spiritus frumenti |
| For this is the nectar of the spirit |
| Quench the thirst, drown the sorrow |
| And forget about cold yesterdays |
| CHORUS X2 |