The population is greatly decreased. And now the odds are greatly increased. That i may someday get a chance, To kiss your lips. I thank the lo-o-ord each day, For the apocalypse.
Folks are mostly disfigured or dead But, sugar, i wont let it go to my head. My mama's face has dripped down into the dirt.
But i'm still chasin' chitlins, whiskey and skirt.