Lyrics:

Hobbling out the back, looking for a gun
Pack of Winnie blues and the Bundaberg rum
Voices in my head, from ripping on the bong
Victims in the shed in the 40 gallon drum
Tripping of my head, sucking on the citric
Silly ol' mate out sitting in the pig shit
Hammer in the veins, hallucinating mind
A forty pack of bulbs and a Stanley cask of wine
I'll stab you in the face if you come around to mine

Silly ol' mate got his head on the block
The old blunt axe, one big chop
Silly ol' mate got his head in the dirt

Educate a guess, slaving to the grind
The parrot spreads his wings, the parrot learns to fly
It's a disaster, straight into the window glass
You can't fly faster, old King Parrot, broken bastards

Silly ol' mate got his head on the block
The old blunt axe, one big chop
Silly ol' mate got his head in the dirt
The old magpie gets eyes for dessert

Silly ol' mates got a lesson not learnt
That's the reason silly ol' mate got burnt
The deal gets better when it ends in death
Silly ol' mate got blood on his breath
The moral to the story is the king of the parrots knows best