Oida

Bust through the front door No discretion anymore Sing songs about the dead 'til we hit the floor Cops break up the night but it lives on alright Call butchers of order to this drunk urban (Night) This is the night where we're pushing our luck The bands keep on playing so who gives a f*ck We're wasting our wasted nights all away This is our paycheques work on display And Now we're at it and then, again and again Addicts for destruction, we call our friends This night is not met with thoughts of repent Living it up with no con-se-quence Living up this rodeo Gonna smash a stereo Dropkick drunks are lots of fun F*ck your triple-6 this is the 9 9 9 yeah What do you call sex on the floor Right next to a bro-ken-down door Breaking everything till there's nothing anymore Living it up f'what this night's got in store Wasting it further and further away This is our bullshit work on a fucking display