Southern Comfort - The Orwells
Drink by drink I think I'm thinkin'
Why not train
With me this week-end
And I can't walk
And I can't dance
Give me a smile
And then take off your pants
Saw her eyes
In the rear-view mirror
Girls in the back
Trunks full of beer
Eyes on the prize
Eyes on the prize
I'm not that open
I'm gettin' really wise
Coke and rum
Can I taste your tongue
Won't stop sipping
Till we're both numb
Lose that dirt and
The short black skirt
Why the lip gloss
And the tight white shirt
Hand down my pants
Hands on my grass
Got to the bottom of the bottom
But I still can't dance
Like this brother
With the hand full of a**
Bad a** shades
And a bag full of grass
