bitchfinder-general:

I’m the first in line, a wellknown face, a V.I.P. in everyplace

My goal’s set high to feel alright, get even more drunk than last night

At the fucking bar the floor I hit, don’t need no chair, I’m too drunk to sit

A girl comes asking me to dance, “Of course not, whore, so kiss my ass”

The bartender refused me more to drink

So I hit him on the nose, cause his bar stinks

I try to leave but I just can’t find the door

They throw me out to an all-night open store

In to the store, proud of myself, with empty pockets and drunk as hell

I bounce between the food and stuff, convinced I’m still not drunk enough

A six-pack beer and a porno-mag is what I need in my shopping bag

The paper of a six-pack is my royal crown

I’m the one who’s thrown out from every bar in town

King of the Sidewalk

Back in the streetlight, stolen brew in my hand

I behave like a asshole, a horrible man

Loud and unpleasant, always the worst

A king of bad manners, proud of my thirst

Bought or homemade booze, don’t really mind

Cause you’re still able to drink even if you’re blind

To see double or nothing is what I choose

As long as I can feel the taste of booze

Totally gone I sleep somewhere ‘til dawn

Don’t know where I’ve been, I wake up on someone’s lawn

I find yesterday’s dinner all over my chest

On my leatherjacket and on my blue jeans-vest

bitchfinder-general:

If you wanna start a street metal band

There are a few things you have to understand

You won’t find any glory or fame

But lots of personal shame

A lifestyle only the worst can survive

You must be an idiot to get by

Lots of fucking, drinking and smoking

But the drugs ain’t free and the sex is revolting

All of the decadence, none of the success 

All of the habits, but none of the cash

None of the highs, but lots of lows

For every single fan you’ll make a hundred foes

In this scene for a hundred years

A disease that won’t disappear

Stirring up chaos, fucking up the scene

Always untight, always unclean

But life at the bottom comes at a cost

To crawl in the gutter is no way for the soft

So listen up kid, take a word from the wise

Get out while you can, or you will pay the price

bitchfinder-general:

People tell us we are wrong just because our hair is long

They say we’re lazy we should grow up, to cut our hair and work in some shop

They’re always telling us we’re wasting precious years

But our only waste of time is when we don’t drink some beer

We’re under the table again

We handle our drinking as men

We’re lying everywhere with vomit in our hair

We’re under the table again

I made myself some alcohol, I drank quite much and I lost control

I drank two litres, maybe three, then I woke up at the emergency

They think I’m a loser, a drunk who’ll never learn

By though my liver slowly shrinks it’s none of their concern

We’re under the table again

We handle our drinking as men

We’re lying everywhere with vomit in our hair

We’re under the table again

I wake up with some food in my hair and wonder what it’s doing there

Hungover stinking cigarette smoke, the morning after ain’t no joke

Hardrockers and bottles in a pile on the floor

Wake ‘em up it’s time to drink some more

We’re under the table again

We handle our drinking as men

We’re lying everywhere with vomit in our hair

We’re under the table again