One day you'll be dying
Of triple throat cancer, ha, ha
God, the vindictive old sod
Will screw you for an answer, ha, ha

When you were young and a singer romancer
Music was forever, ha, ha
Here's a copy of the contract you signed at the time
To say you knew what you bartered, ha, ha

Writing this in case you get bitter and twisted
Coughing on your deathbed, ha, ha
So when you're in life's last sordid process
You'll sing like Mozart, ha, ha

This is a song to the glorious drunkards
Li Po and J Stone, claimed by the real world
For anyone who doesn't likе the world they werе born in
Who'll build a fire on Main Street and shoot it full of holes