He's a lush
He's a prick
He's a hypochondriac
Who never called in sick
No plans just bitter ends
Dust cloud is growing then
No way I sort things out
No one will cut him down
Turn of the century we
Got us a zealot
Follow suit in our youth
Never understand it
No plans just bitter ends
Dust cloud is growing thin
No way I sort things out
No one will cut him down
Goddamn right now you feel guilty
You're goddamn right
