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Happy
Birthday Beer Bytch! surveying all the land. She doesn't care what's going on As long as she hears the band. She's got it bad this young nymph for guys in Wrangler jeans; She doesn't care if they are smart or dumb, or somewhere in between. She gazes across the Stetson filled room looking for her prey, She spots a victim, zeros in; Oh shit not him he's gay! Perhaps a good old married man that might do the trick. But everyone that catches her eye Turns out to be a prick. She pours her self tequila, chases it with ice cold beer; Sometimes she sits and wonders What the hell am I doing here? But just as she is about to give up And take her self on home; she hears those old twin fiddles play and stays there on her throne. When out of the smoky crowded room She spots him in his hat, Straightens her hair, pushes up her bra and says " GET UP ON THAT" Happy Birthday Beer! Smoke July 30, 2002
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