| I’m sorry, Mama, but I’ve been drinking again
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| Me and the old man got us a head start on the weekend
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| And rest assured, tonight I’m going to be in Kevin’s basement with all my
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| friends
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| Provided we can get, get our lazy asses down to Bottle King by ten
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| And the walk home is going to be a real shit show
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| I’ll be picking up half-smoked cigarette butts all up and down Rock Road
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| And then to throw up in the warm glow of the traffic light
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| But I’m gonna put the devil inside to sleep if it takes all night
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| So let’s get fucked up, and let’s pretend we’re all okay
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| And if you’ve got something that you can’t live with
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| Save it for another day, all right?
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| Save it for another day
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| I’m sorry, Mama, but expect a call from the neighbors tonight
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| All of my asshole buddies are coming over and they’re feeling a little too all
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| right
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| I’m sick and tired of everyone in this town being so goddamn uptight
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| But don’t you worry, I’ll do all the talking when they turn on the flashing
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| lights
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| When I’m an old man, I can be the quiet type
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| And I can go without a moment of fun for the rest of my life
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| I can read a good book, and I can be in bed by ten
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| And I can get up early, go to work and come home, and start it all over again
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| But while we’re young, boys, everybody raise your glasses high
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| Singing, 'Here's to the good times, here’s to the home team
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| Kiss the good times goodbye, oh yeah
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| Kiss the good times goodbye.'
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| I need a timeout, I need an escape from reality
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| Or else I need eternal darkness and death, I need an exit strategy
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| Down in North Carolina, I could have been a productive member of society
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| But these New Jersey cigarettes and all they require have made a fucking junkie
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| out of me
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| So give me a Guinness, give me a Keystone Light
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| Give me a kegger on a Friday night
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| Give me anything but another year in exile
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| I need a whiskey, I need a whiskey right now
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| God knows how many times I’ve said this before
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| But I really don’t feel like doing this anymore
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| So hey, Andy, let’s turn into dirty old men
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| Close down the bar every night at the Glen Rock Inn
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| Talk about our grandkids as we stroke our grey bears
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| Funny we’re still doing carbombs after all of these years
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| And I know there are bicycles waiting to ride
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| But I could swear I heard voices from the other side, saying
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| 'Wait until you see the whites of their eyes.'
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| And now that I’m older, I look back and say
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| 'What the fuck was it for anyway?'
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| For those dreams are lying in the still of the grave —
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| What the fuck were they for anyway?
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| So let it be on a stretcher if I get carried away —
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| What the fuck was it for anyway? |