| We were drinking with Pollack, | |
| He drank a fifth of Grappa | |
| He told me that he loved me, | |
| And then he kicked me in the chest. | |
| Reap upon with David, | |
| Lies sitting on heartache | |
| The chances of us winning are about 1 in 16, | |
| He talked about the old days, | |
| Allegiance that are many, | |
| Across from us guys are sitting | |
| From g'd up motherfuckers. | |
| And how, it was, TOTALLY FUCKED! | |
| We were drinking at the Franken, | |
| With 2000 Dirty Squatters, | |
| We didn't want to fight them, | |
| So instead they beat each other up. | |
| The Squatters don't have money, | |
| But at least they don't have showers, | |
| So when they're drinking their own piss, | |
| We didn't think much of it. | |
| The moral of this story, | |
| Don't use your better judgment, | |
| Cause what good is an evening, | |
| If you can't even remember. | |
| Just how, it was, TOTALLY FUCKED! |
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