Blood, Sweat and Beers

Dirt and sweat, smoke and beer, a constant ringing in the ear
The haunted sound of the silent cheer
Constant smell of carbon monoxide, miles and miles on sheets of black ice
Trying hard not to pick up crab lice
Days and days on the four-oh-one in the womb of an iron lung
How much longer will this machine run?
Counting seconds, running late, stress twists you out of shape
Just a pawn in the hands of fate

Dirty toilets for your use, mould growing in your shoes
Fuck it all just pass the booze

Summer Sunday punk rock forum, everything just seems to bore ‘em
It’s no holiday in the sun
You gotta play there’s no place to run
It’s no holiday in the sun
You gotta play there’s no placе to run
Sitting duck for a loaded gun