| There’s sweat on my finger tips
|
| I got a belly full of beer shits
|
| My head is too close to the wall
|
| There’s blood in my underwear
|
| I don’t know how I got it there
|
| I swear I’d bust open my head, should I fall
|
| I know weaker personalities
|
| 'Cos they’re sitting around my home with me
|
| I’ve got an ever loving wife… of a sort
|
| There’s a bottle and a half to go
|
| Don’t ask me where 'cos I don’t know at all
|
| Sit right down, one for the road?
|
| We don’t stick it where it don’t belong
|
| We don’t mend what ain’t broken
|
| And it’s not because we’re strung out on the sauce
|
| We’re not picking up the pieces
|
| Of a world that still increasingly
|
| Just has to know my business
|
| What is yours?
|
| Well there’s hate where my liver sits
|
| I got cigarettes to pull to bits
|
| I don’t think too much it’s bad for the soul
|
| I got bottles for good company
|
| A great drinker and his love could be…
|
| Well of all the stupid things I’ve been told
|
| They took my car
|
| Get out if it’s not for you
|
| You stay here then, you throw down too
|
| If all the world would wait and see
|
| The last drink’s gonna be on me |