Tip Your Bartender

Hit it one more. Time for our men . . . in uniform (with a price upon their
heads).
This is a WAR! Sober up, but call it what you want. The color changes up in the
sun.

Not throwing stones at you anymore. Your name's in lights and I don't wonder .
. . anymore. Anymore . . .

All my X's live with hexes, this is why I hang . . . myself with jealousy upon
a fencepost half mast.
Fashion: war between . . . the guilty and the guilty and the guilty and the
guilty and the teen.

Not throwing stones at you anymore. Your name's in lights and I don't wonder .
. . anymore. Anymore . . .

Oh yeah, I would like to . . . stay and die like mice do.
I'm crying in the beer of a drunk man. I'm crying, crying, crying!

Not throwing stones at you anymore. Your name's in lights and I don't wonder .
. . anymore. Anymore . . .

Oh yeah, I would like to . . . Yeah, I'd like to die like fucking mice do.
I'm crying in the beer of a drunk man. And I'm crying in the beer of a drunk
man.

Fashion! Fashion! Buy it! Load it! Shoot it!