I’m at the bottom of my glass.
I can’t even taste the drink
but I’ll do whatever I has
to bury what I think.
I’ve barely slept a wink
and I trip and fumble as
I stumble to the sink.
God, I’m such an ass…
but I’m tired of the brink.
I’m looking to succeed, at last:
to bury what I think.
I don’t know what to tell;
I don’t know what to think…
How can she make me feel so well?
It’s probably something in the drink.
Because in just a blink
she can pull me out of hell,
right from the burning brink.
Could it be her curves and swells
or her sultry, randy wink?
Perhaps some power dark and fell?
It’s probably something in the drink.
More beer!
Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!
I want to drink until
I can’t even remember my
own name.
With the smooth music of the band,
it’s a wonder the crowd can even stand
‘cause they love drinking beer
and raising a hearty cheer
in honor of their homeland.
Here in these quaint corner bars
people drink like they’re fucking stars
‘til they’re so deep in their suds
the owners call in the fuzz
who take them to different bars.
A (wise) man of two faces 