Billy

Fuck you, Billy, where is this going? You know your dad's at the bar, and he keeps calling for shots Well, the lights in the bathroom, yeah, they're whiter than heaven And your sister's boyfriend keeps looking at his eye, you know Fuck you, Billy, show me the money You know the phlegm in the piss drop is marbled with blood Like the trees in the forest, now they're calling for axes And your dad's at the bar, but he keeps calling for shots, hey I, I hate tequila rosé And I, I hate tequila rosé Well, fuck you, Billy, open the garden I'll be as quiet as a peeper, perched in the loft Or there's a man in Japan who dresses like Lassie And he pays other people to take him for walks, yeah I, I hate tequila rosé And I, I hate tequila rosé And I, I hate tequila rosé And I, I hate tequila rosé Fuck you, Billy, where is this going? You know your dad's at the bar and he keeps calling for shots It's not Bailey's or vodka or sweet Johnny Walker No, it's not Bailey's or vodka or sweet Johnny Walker, you know So fuck you, Billy, where is this going? You know your dad's at the bar and he keeps calling for cheap shots Baby, walk me home off this calvary of drink You know my mind is losing oxygen, my mind is losing oxygen The karaoke is coming on, my tongue, it tastes like cannabis So, Billy, walk me home, you know she's touching his, touching his chest