It's never just a pint, we end up hoarding crates;Wish you could kill, but she can sometimes be hard to hate.
I'm certain you think you've heard it all, but maybe calm your tits and hug your dolls.
Her lies are worse than her ass so sour, Let me introduce you to the misery's favorite whore.
Through the highways she's crawled in her puke;There's hardly a drug out there she hasn't been hooked.
I've heard her say she's been there , she's done that; Burned up her tits and by the looks, jacked off her tats.
She has fell from the mountains, she has drowned in the ponds,She has fucked like a chimney, she has been fucked by the hounds.
A little bird just flew by this morning, and he told me that you're drunk and maybe horny.
And I'd normally wouldn't go around to trust some binge; Of crackwhores od'd on old syringe.
But the lager had already got to my heels, With cheap booze and brawls on spree.
So I took you out with my habits and your vices to a place so rad, no shit we ran out of choices.
Possibly we broke some laws with our broken heads; Slipped, tripped and passed out at all the gates.
We lost some sense while the tide kept getting high, We jumped onto the fence; we looked so happy with our lies.