I'm so mired in debt; that's why I drink.
I'm so wired, the meth will help me think.
I haven't even et up my roadkill, flattened skink,
Roast, roast, roast.

I'm so mired in debt; what will I do?
I'll go fire at signs with .32.
I blunder as I fall down and put a hole through my shoe.

I place a tourniquet on;
I've lost two toes--some cause for alarm.
You know, the bloods seeps right outa the vein,
You know I'm real weak, I no can feel pain.
I would give anything not to be shot--
Little piece of toe I find.

I've expired, but no one is upset,
Because they're so wired,
Smoking a meth-drenched cigarette,
And nursing some Jack Daniels,
Shooting at my piglet pet.

They're wasted and turning on;
They take slow tokes--they're hyper but calm.
You know, they can't sleep, stimulated brain,
But slowly one speaks: "Say, where is my main
Man? Don't ya think someone oughta go out
And see if him we can find?
He has another poke and toke and shouts:
"We're all too stoned, never mind."