The question of whether to live Resolves all my thoughts like a sieve If this too solid flesh Were dissolved in a mess There would be no goddammit to give.
As I went out one Saturday night I'm embarrassed to tell you my plight But my belt buckle broke And I mooned a poor bloke So he screamed and then ran out of sight
Sometimes I sits here and I thinks Sometimes I sits here and I thinks Sometimes I just sits here Sometimes I just sits here Sometimes I sits here and I thinks
When your thinking is over dear friend And your worries has come to an end Then it’s time to start over Roll around in the clover And a new stupid game to attend
He'd avoided the old hangman's noose From the gallows he had gotten loose There's no rope 'round his neck But, Hey! What the heck? Now it's wrapped 'round his caboose.