Tiny Pony Chairs

We are drowning in our blankets, we are climbing from the couch
Drinking straight arsenic, drinking straight arsenic
Tearing up the sofa, clowning around
Grape juice Pennsylvanian without a metal barrel to be found

And we drive for something better and we break our local laws
And we read exposing letters about their flaws
And we want a taste of godship, just a sip is all
A ‘shiner we met at Scoreboard takes us to the stall
And there are tiny pony chairs in the hall…

Moonshine in the bathroom, homebrew in the bed
Tastes a bit like gasoline, I think her gas can leaked a bit
Follow her white pick up, what do we hope to find?
‘Neath the tar beyond the trailer park—this is where she makes the famous wine

And we’re not sure how to tell her as we’re blindfolded and led
Down the stairs into a cellar that there’s danger ahead
We can hear the cushions rustling, underground the sound is small
As we drink the wine of gods, we can hear someone crawl
And there are tiny pony chairs in the hall

Oooh oooh oooh

So we climb into the barrels, drown ourselves in wine and fall
Out from the cushions into our apartment, just before the wrecking ball
And there are tiny pony chairs in the hall
But they won’t fit into my backpack at all
So I leave tiny pony chairs in the hall