Wore Out The Soles Of My Party Boots

Life is fast but I don't wanna live past you
'Cause you are my only roots
I was the king of the drug, booze thing
Now I've worn out the soles of my party boots

So call me shit faced, 'Master of Disgrace'
I don't care 'cause my outer skin
Is thick like crust and a liver that's rusted out
Now, I'm on a list

Everybody wants to give a shit outta me
I won't give it but I'll give ambivalence
I gotta memory box 'cause my memory blocks me
From remembering weeks

All the blacked out nights into white out mornings
Into gray matter damagings
So call me Fat Fuck, geriatric punk rock
Give it straight 'cause I deserve

A verbal beating from an audience bleating
And a melee with no concern
Everybody wants to give a shit outta me
I won't give it but I'll give irresponsiveness

Everybody wants to drag me up again
I wanna go but the price keeps going up
Going down is simple and practical
Laying low but keeping it cynical
I'm on the wagon and it's such a drag
Without a key kick, shot and a drag

Evidently no one likes a quitter
Or an old punk's bitterness
So I'm waiting for the tap
On my shoulder 'cause we're all getting older not better
The laughs are no longer with us

So call me Fat Fuck, geriatric punk
Call me Fat Fuck, geriatric punk
Call me Fat Fuck, geriatric punk
Shit faced, Master of Disgrace