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