I’m sorry, Mama, but I’ve been drinking again
Me and the old man got us a head start on the weekend
And rest assured, tonight I’m going to be in Kevin’s basement with all my friends
Provided we can get, get our lazy asses down to Bottle King by ten
And the walk home is going to be a real shit-show
I’ll be picking up half smoked cigarette butts all up and down Rock Road
And then to throw up in the warm glow of the traffic light
But I’m going to put the devil inside me to sleep if it takes all night
So let’s get fucked up, and let’s pretend we’re all okay
And if you’ve got something that you can’t live with, save it for another day, all right?
Save it for another day

I’m sorry, Mama, but expect a call from the neighbors tonight
All of my asshole buddies are coming over and they’re feeling a little too all right
I’m sick and tired of everyone in this town being so goddamn uptight
But don’t worry, I’ll do all the talking when they turn on the flashing lights
When I’m an old man, I can be the quiet type
And I can go without a moment of fun for the rest of my life
I can read a good book, and I can be in bed by ten
I can get up early, go to work and come home
And start it all over again
But while we’re young, boys, everybody raise yr glasses high, singing,
“Here’s to the good times, here’s to the home team,
Kiss the good times goodbye, oh yeah,
Kiss the good times goodbye.”

I need a timeout, I need an escape from reality
Or else I need eternal darkness and death, I need an exit strategy
In North Carolina, I could have been a productive member of society
But these New Jersey cigarettes and all they require have made a fucking junkie out of me
So give me a Guinness, give me a Keystone Light
Give me a kegger on a Friday night
Give me anything but another year in exile
I need a whiskey
I need a whiskey right now
God knows how many times I’ve said this before
But I really don’t feel like doing this anymore

So hey, Andy, let’s turn into dirty old men
Close down the bar every night at the Glen Rock Inn
Talk about our grandkids as we stroke our grey beards
Funny we’re still doing carbombs after of these years
And I know there are bicycles waiting to ride
But I could swear I heard voices from the other side
Saying, “Wait until you see the whites of their eyes”
So now that I’m older, I look back and say, “What the fuck was it for anyway?”
For those dreams are lying in the still of the grave – what the fuck were they for anyway?
So let it be on a stretcher if I get carried away – what the fuck was it for anyway?
What the fuck was it for anyway?