The melancholic grin of the old
As the cold hurts the inner soul
Crumbles the bones of the bowed legs
Aspirin, ******, and saccharin

Puncture wounds of a snake that bit you
My friend, have you lost
Your battle with the truth
Can't you face the reality of addiction

Cheers, cheers, cheers
With another beer
Look at how society leers at you
You warm-hearted tool.