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Drunk men stagger, drunk men fall |
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Drunk men swear and that's not all |
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Quite often they will urinate outdoors |
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Like widowed women, drunk men weep |
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Like children curled up, drunk men sleep |
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Like a dog, a drunk will crawl around on all fours |
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Be he broke bum or rich rake |
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His dinner be it bread or cake |
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His beverage be the worse of whiskey, finest wine |
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Puke it stinks and so it seems |
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That drunkards go to great extremes |
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But there has yet to be a perfectly straight line |
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Drunks talk strong when drunks are weak |
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It's easy for a drunk to speak |
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Straight from the heart |
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Yeah, drunks will fight they're not afraid |
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To kiss the mistress and make the maid |
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It's a manly art |
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Oh but big toll will take |
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Blood vessels in nose will break |
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Bags beneath the eyes, another sign |
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Drunks get ugly, so it seems |
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That drunkards go to great extremes |
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But there has yet to be a perfectly straight line |
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Drunks are friendly when they're drunk and |
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Drunks are hostile when they're drunk |
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Which drunk it is, it all depends upon |
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When drunks aren't drunk, they thirst for drink |
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And the elephants are grey, not pink |
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And the drink evaporates the man is gone, gone, gone, gone |
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Back to the yachts and the subway cars |
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To the hip-flasks and fruit jars |
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Flat on the face and flat on the behind |
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Oh, drunks get drunk and so it seems |
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That drunkards go to great extremes |
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But there has yet to be a perfectly straight line |
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Straight line |
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Straight line |
