Lyrics:

She played for the angels I played for the tribe The summer had been stolen And the faces were all lonely There was big money on the line Big money on the line, yeah There was big money on the line I can't walk so I guess I'm gonna stay at home They can have my legs just leave my mail alone I was in the kitchen The year was in the fall A friend of mine told me That there weren't no point in moaning No there weren't no point at all There's big fire in the hall, yeah There weren't no points at all I can't walk so I guess I'm gonna stay at home They can have my legs just leave my mail alone And I can't talk so I guess I got nothing to say I'll keep my eyes just take these tears away Lock, stock and barrel All the dogs had gone infertile And the car ran like a broken perculator His liver had gone hard And he wouldn't mow the yard There was big money on the line And I heard that his brother was a bikie He liked to solve a problem with a gun If you want to know the facts You've gotta teach them how to act And I hate cough syrup Don't you? I'd rather be a sailor than a fighter I'd like to sail a ship into the sun If you wanna know the truth You gotta dig up Johnny Booth And I hate cough syrup Don't you? I know your mother is a martyr I've heard she's got connections with the mob If you wanna learn to fight You've gotta drink up all the white And I hate cough syrup Don't you? I'd rather be a matchstick than a lighter I like to see the wood curl up and burn If you wanna touch the sky You must be prepared to die And I hat