I want cold ice on the rock,
Shake the bottle, stir it up,
and then scramble it into multiple shots.
Sell the bottle, leave the glass,
empty the bowels into my shot-glass.
Hurry it up and don't forget it's precise,
let the drops drip down into the ice.
Give me my malt beer that I asked for,
And don't shake that up for my vocal recital.
I gave my all and let it drown and die,
so now I down my sorrow by drinking
Gulping, *******, drowning
Allowing my feelings to float high in the sky.
Then it crashes down, reaches to my very core,
and then that's when I drink some more.