Southern Comfort

Southern Comfort - The Orwells

Drink by drink I think I'm thinkin'

Why not train

With me this week-end

And I can't walk

And I can't dance

Give me a smile

And then take off your pants

Saw her eyes

In the rear-view mirror

Girls in the back

Trunks full of beer

Eyes on the prize

Eyes on the prize

I'm not that open

I'm gettin' really wise

Coke and rum

Can I taste your tongue

Won't stop sipping

Till we're both numb

Lose that dirt and

The short black skirt

Why the lip gloss

And the tight white shirt

Hand down my pants

Hands on my grass

Got to the bottom of the bottom

But I still can't dance

Like this brother

With the hand full of a**

Bad a** shades

And a bag full of grass