There is an old tradition
A game we all can play
You start by getting liquored up and sharpening your blade
You take a shot of whiskey
You grab your knife and pray
And spread apart your fingers
And this is what you say
Oh, I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop chop chop.
If I miss the spaces in between, my fingers will come off.
And if I hit my fingers, blood will soon come out.
But all the same I play this game, 'cause that's what it's all about.
No, you can't use a pencil
You can not use a pen
The only way is with a knife when danger is your friend
And some may call it stupid
Some may call it dumb
But all the same we play this game
Because it's so damn fun
Oh, I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop chop chop.
If I miss the spaces in between, my fingers will come off.
And if I hit my fingers, the blood will soon come out.
But all the same I play this game, 'cause that's what it's all about.
Oh, CHOP CHOP CHOP CHOP CHOP CHOP CHOP
I'm picking up the speed,
and If I hit my fingers then my hand will start to bleed.