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