| Song | Things I Don't Remember |
| Artist | Ugly Casanova |
| Album | Sharpen Your Teeth |
| 作曲 : Brock | |
| Things I don't remember | |
| How the hell'd we get here? | |
| How the hell did we get here? | |
| Things I don't remember | |
| Dressed up alligators. | |
| How'd the hell we get here? | |
| Things I don't remember | |
| There was dressed up alligator. | |
| There was cum on the piano | |
| Disco dancing neighbors | |
| Who were born in mashed potatoes | |
| Caught with our pants down | |
| Hiding in the doghouse | |
| Figured out what we're good for | |
| You're the sailor and | |
| I'm the port | |
| Things I don't remember | |
| We undressed for the tailor. | |
| Your skin was lightly salted | |
| Opened up a can of loud mouth malted | |
| High fives in your eyes | |
| Pushed the gas and now | |
| I'm kissin' your thighs | |
| Looking for a purpose | |
| How'd the hell'd we get here? | |
| There were things | |
| I don't remember | |
| There was messed up alligator | |
| There were endless conversations | |
| No one's mouths were really moving | |
| All them dumpsters overflowing | |
| All my malevolent intentions | |
| Things I don't remember | |
| I figured out what | |
| I'm good for | |
| Making anything look bitter | |
| How the hell could | |
| I blame her? | |
| Even then | |
| I was a sailor | |
| There were jokes that never land | |
| Every hand was tipped in subliminal sand | |
| Things I don't remember | |
| There was undressed for the tailor | |
| There are jokes that couldn't land | |
| There were disco dancing neighbors | |
| They were born in mashed potatoes | |
| There was no town, | |
| Motown. There were things | |
| I don't remember | |
| Dressed up alligator | |
| How the hell'd we get here? | |
| How the hell'd we get here? |
| zuò qǔ : Brock | |
| Things I don' t remember | |
| How the hell' d we get here? | |
| How the hell did we get here? | |
| Things I don' t remember | |
| Dressed up alligators. | |
| How' d the hell we get here? | |
| Things I don' t remember | |
| There was dressed up alligator. | |
| There was cum on the piano | |
| Disco dancing neighbors | |
| Who were born in mashed potatoes | |
| Caught with our pants down | |
| Hiding in the doghouse | |
| Figured out what we' re good for | |
| You' re the sailor and | |
| I' m the port | |
| Things I don' t remember | |
| We undressed for the tailor. | |
| Your skin was lightly salted | |
| Opened up a can of loud mouth malted | |
| High fives in your eyes | |
| Pushed the gas and now | |
| I' m kissin' your thighs | |
| Looking for a purpose | |
| How' d the hell' d we get here? | |
| There were things | |
| I don' t remember | |
| There was messed up alligator | |
| There were endless conversations | |
| No one' s mouths were really moving | |
| All them dumpsters overflowing | |
| All my malevolent intentions | |
| Things I don' t remember | |
| I figured out what | |
| I' m good for | |
| Making anything look bitter | |
| How the hell could | |
| I blame her? | |
| Even then | |
| I was a sailor | |
| There were jokes that never land | |
| Every hand was tipped in subliminal sand | |
| Things I don' t remember | |
| There was undressed for the tailor | |
| There are jokes that couldn' t land | |
| There were disco dancing neighbors | |
| They were born in mashed potatoes | |
| There was no town, | |
| Motown. There were things | |
| I don' t remember | |
| Dressed up alligator | |
| How the hell' d we get here? | |
| How the hell' d we get here? |