I ain't got no outfits to pick and choose

So I really ain't got that much to lose

Picture's gettin' fuzzy and it's stuck on channel three

And the whole thing's lookin' pretty silly to me

Fifty thousand more and I'm out of the red

Heavy metal thrash band, it's all a bunch of shit

People tryin' to name me while I'm tryin' to do my bit

I ain't got the patience or the time to waste

Call me a rock star, you can spit in my face

Gonna take a horse to drag me outta my bed

I'd rather hang with drunks than hang out with myself

Well, the booze is over there, take a glass off the shelf

If you ain't had enough by tomorrow at noon

We're gonna place a call to the boneyard crew

Went to sleep at home and woke up in a shed

Oh, son of a bitch