Get your ***** hands off of us,
Shove your prehistoric lips into the floor,
Rug burn up your paper thin skin,
Splintered your hollow bones.

Those two got a track record,
Here's to the brandy drunk uncles,
hooded back street lurkers,
and the bar top companions who go by one rule, "you snooze, you loose."

Thoughts and prayers, I love the savior,
Mister Joe, you've got our back,
Tell me what you have up your sleeve,
Next it'll be just an 'abracadabra' away.