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