| Song | Paid To Get Drunk |
| Artist | Ed Harcourt |
| Album | Elephant's Graveyard |
| At the bottom of an empty glass | |
| See myself going nowhere fast | |
| And the barman tells me it's time to leave | |
| But I haven't got time to care | |
| If I have so much love to give | |
| Where is that will to live? | |
| Maybe you old friend will show me how | |
| Come here pull up a chair | |
| I get paid, paid to get drunk | |
| Spend my money on any old junk | |
| And every morning kills my soul | |
| At the end, the end of each day | |
| Every drink is directed my way | |
| Well every morning kills my soul | |
| Sports plays on the corner screen | |
| This feels like a movie scene | |
| And I'm long past done with clichés and all | |
| My eyes are much to blurred | |
| This is how I live my life | |
| Escaping worries, eternal strife | |
| And I'll try to talk to anyone | |
| But my speech is much too slurred | |
| I get paid, paid to get drunk | |
| Spend my money on any old junk | |
| And every morning kills my soul | |
| At the end, the end of each day | |
| Every drink is directed my way | |
| Well every morning kills my soul | |
| Oh ah oh | |
| Oh ah | |
| Oh oh oh | |
| Ah ah ah | |
| At the bottom of an empty glass | |
| See myself going nowhere fast | |
| And the barman tells me it's time to leave | |
| But I haven't got time to care |
| At the bottom of an empty glass | |
| See myself going nowhere fast | |
| And the barman tells me it' s time to leave | |
| But I haven' t got time to care | |
| If I have so much love to give | |
| Where is that will to live? | |
| Maybe you old friend will show me how | |
| Come here pull up a chair | |
| I get paid, paid to get drunk | |
| Spend my money on any old junk | |
| And every morning kills my soul | |
| At the end, the end of each day | |
| Every drink is directed my way | |
| Well every morning kills my soul | |
| Sports plays on the corner screen | |
| This feels like a movie scene | |
| And I' m long past done with cliché s and all | |
| My eyes are much to blurred | |
| This is how I live my life | |
| Escaping worries, eternal strife | |
| And I' ll try to talk to anyone | |
| But my speech is much too slurred | |
| I get paid, paid to get drunk | |
| Spend my money on any old junk | |
| And every morning kills my soul | |
| At the end, the end of each day | |
| Every drink is directed my way | |
| Well every morning kills my soul | |
| Oh ah oh | |
| Oh ah | |
| Oh oh oh | |
| Ah ah ah | |
| At the bottom of an empty glass | |
| See myself going nowhere fast | |
| And the barman tells me it' s time to leave | |
| But I haven' t got time to care |