Happy we are when we choose to wear the blindfold
And mark our own day with a parade and a song

In our minds our fathers have died and we realize that cities have clubs and we like
to get drunk and high from the smells we inhale from dirty wells and the mouth of a
boy who smokes cigarettes

Happiness has a smell I inhale like a drug done in a darkened hall or a bathroom
stall with a friend or a man with a hard-on
I feed my own face when I soon crave a taste of the neck of a boy who wears eau
de toilette and shaves every day and behaves well in department stores

As well, it is the smell of old c__ on the rug men walk their dirty feet on and the
sweat from the chest of a man in a leather uniform
Happy are we when we choose to wear the blindfold and mark our own place with
the smell of our own

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