Harold’s Club

A fellas' union man
Gets into his Cadillac
On his way to a live pigeon shoot
And he whines about, and he cries about
With the whiskey sour in his hand
But I know what to do

Lighter fluid!

They got a room for this
They got a lodge for that
Blowing up pigeons
While wearing cowboy hats

Dolce wears plaid
In a motel room
Sweat drippin' off his head
And once he's done
He was wishing he was dead, yeah

Lighter fluid!