Southern Comfort - The Orwells

Drink by drink, I think, I’m thinking

Why don’t you hang with me this weekend?

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 seat, trunk full of beer

Eyes on the prize, eyes on her thighs

I’m not that old but I’m getting pretty wise

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

Coke and rum, can I taste your tongue?

Won’t stop sipping till we’re both numb

Who’s that girl in the short black skirt

Lotta lip gloss and the tight white shirt?

Hand down my pants, hands on my glass

Got to the bottom of the barrel, but I still can’t dance

Life is better with a hand full of ass

Bad ass shades and a bag full of grass

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah