You got to help my pet rat doc - he's always glum
though I give him lab cigarettes, sawdust, even a wheel 
to run
I tell him: you should be happy there's no reason to 
stare
I play him Mariah Carey - so there's butterflies and 
rainbows in the air

his name is St Michael and he's a bit of a class clown
he laughs with people who always laugh him down
he would hang himself except he already chewed threw 
the rope
he would rise on heavens wings except he's miserable as 
the pope

I know the party's over
but whoops would look at that, my glass is still half 
full
I show it to St Michael but his eyes they drift like 
frost
while he watches all the goodness in his heart burn 
away like exhaust

do you remember when i mentioned my half full glass?
it comes in handy when you always want more
it magically fills as the boasts get empty
from the tired swimmer who can no longer see the shore

yeah I know the party's over
well I'm a little relieved but what will I do now
I'll be nicer to St Michael - that rat really makes me 
laugh
when he says: in the end there are no saints there are 
no liars
there are just sparks falling down wires
they have no heart but they always sing
they are the heroin in everything
a beauty easy to explain away
but how do you make it stay:
you got to fight for it
you got to fight for it
you got to fight for it
you got to fight for it
you got to fight for it...