Going for a Pint with Corpsegrinder

"Look at that hunky neck."

In a gloomy, dim lit pub I sit and wait while you get a round in

"I'll have what you have, George

I'll have a pint of 'Amber Smashed Face' ale."

Night fall descending

We raise up our glass

Madness unending

Your words are like mass

…And we'll talk about Warcraft, and we'll talk about sports

And don't get me started on Cannibal Corpse

In a gloomy, dim lit pub I watch you headbang for ten straight minutes

The bar staff are quite concerned

"It's alright love, because he always does this."

Is this the same place?

This evening is a blur

Eyes glazed; I can't feel my face

My words start to slur

We're neck deep in sin

As the sweetest of poisons are poured down our throat

The fiend that's within

Carving a path of acute self-destruction

We're neck deep in sin

Pure chaos is spawned from an unquenchable thirst

The fiend that's within

Taste the waters of oblivion

Drink up

The. Time. To. Drink. Is. Motherfucking. Now.

The time to drink is motherfucking now

…And we'll talk about fishing, and we'll talk about grabbing machines

And don't get me starting on Monstrosity

Last orders have been called, I slump and wait while you get a round in

"I'll have what you have, George."

I've had enough but I can't be stopped

"Look at that hunky neck."