Anchored

We graduate from park benches, sink a couple in between
We stroll on in the bar's entrance, as if there's something in our genes
This is what we inherited from the old men in checkered shirts
And their father's fathers before them, oh no, we are not the first

Sorrows drowned in seas of amber, drifting from emotion
For grief or stress or happiness, we've learnt to crack another open

Drink it, drink it, drink it up now
Drink it, drink it, drink it down
Drink it, drink it, drink it up now
Drink it, drink it, drink it

We drink cos we have problems, we have problems cos we drink
The old woman's on the warpath, she drove Bacchus to the brink
The epidural is wearing off, give her gin instead
For twenty fucking years, the old man has wet the baby's head
The children are the future, and boy they grow up fast
From the cradle to the boozer, we stay anchored to the past

Drink it, drink it, drink it up now
Drink it, drink it, drink it down
Drink it, drink it, drink it up now
Drink it, drink it, drink it