I was a handyman, a long bed pickup was my pride
Quarts of liquor I'd imbibe
Sweaty old butt crack did I model as I slaved
Plenty of mold-germ fell from pine studs that I shaved
Some plaster sprung free, I was pinned, did not survive
But I was still revived

I was a jailer, I abhorred the cons inside
With a key I did preside
I flailed a loser found with porn too wet to stow
I sent a rotten churl to days alone below
And when them 'tards broke out, they met me on a hill
Behind a whiskey still

I was a can filler, I tossed the shriveled meat that slides
Where wheels and choppers did reside
I glazed pork shoulder on the line, all a-blotto
I slipped on gelatin, was left to bleed alone
They carried me to some clay room below the ground
But I am still in town

I'll always need a round and a round
And a round and a round and a round and a round...

My life's a hard trip, bosses rude, and worse, unkind
I'd like to flee this utter grind
To find a place where festive spirits lift my brain
Perhaps I'll taste some rum when Friday comes again
Or I may simply need to sing to stop the pain
Just a shrill refrain

As I get smashed again and again
And again and again and again and again...