Empty pockets Your karma is bad No one to love and You're totally mad Go out and get some Get a couple of beers And sing a song about your True needs
You're a greasy rocker Playin' at local bars Gettin' drunk heavily You're covered in scars Your Gibson's dead, man Your shoes are rotten Your hair's unkempt Your nose is broken
Hey y'all in a bar Stand up your asses Dance when a bluesman Is breakin' your glasses I know I'm a bad luck And I know you're fun And I got a riff for you Sons of guns