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 got a memory box cause my memory blocks me
From remembering weeks
All the blacked out nights into white out mornings
Into grey 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 kief hit, 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
And 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