Friday Night @ The Liquor Store

Lyrics for Friday Night @ The Liquor Store

Yeah it's a eight hour day Forty hour week And it's a Friday night At the liquor store Yeah, the water hole at the shithole The whole neighbourhood lined up like prey in the Sahara Dismount front truck cab and stampede The pool of Steinlager like a school of piranha Box under arm but still under the armour Young cub under the table watching his father Red lions, grey geese, purple iguanas All running like mascara the day after Still tryna chase a dragon they'll never catch Bitch of an itch of which he'll nеver scratch With a scratchie, blow a whole bag on a baggy Bottlе up a problem in a bottle of happy In a high-vis tux at the broke folks ball Steel-cap tap-dance on bourbon-soaked floor Piss poor looking for more piss to pour Friday night at the liquor store White walkers, Johnnie Walkers, could have been Stan Walkers The best of West Auckland's worst combined forces Of workhorses horsed on state house porches Gather like mourners to farewell the fallen Dreams of old washed up fiends and broke ballers Forty-four year old George warehouse Foreman Knocked out front lawn Sunday morning Synchronized drowning, Friday night out like it's Thursday night [?] in overpriced housing Staring at the eftpos machine like I'm waiting for the lotto numbers Or the cancer results Ding ding ding you just won a jackshit jackpot Chip a cap off the tooth biting the cap off What you really know about conditioning, Pavlov? And what? Yeah, it's a twelve hour day Sixty hour week And it's a Friday night At the liquor store Yeah, Friday night at the liquor store Automatic door like a wormhole to a holding cell Low enough to dig a hole to hell Bottom of the well I know it well If I had a soul to sell I would've pawned it Too bad the man's back in rehab He might've been clean if he could afford it You can lead a horse to water but he'll still horse it What's the real reason it caused, they can't call it Out of credit, Friday night, you know where I'm headed Walking twelve block through the desert Just to get it on a benny like Paula Bennett Lord and peasant, landlord and tenant, same scam Fell in love with the same man that killed our parents The same spirits that broke Gil Scott-Heron's And I just got paid, you can't tell me that I ain't rich Ay ay, get out of my way What you say bitch? Friday night at the liquor store Swarms of locusts, packs of smokes and boats of bogans The voodoo man selling the hope to the hopeless The most broke, half rich, almost homeless Rush like roaches in the light before it closes And some of us will be right back before he opens Line around the corner in the middle of covid And we're still out here vortekking Coronas Hang around like vultures over the carcass Scavengers in Michael Savage's garden Packs of rats and drunk fatherless bastards With one life to live and two car garages Play your last card with a hand of last chances Trauma like a hospital, pass parcel the casket Everlasting paradise that never lasted Whole life chasing the past, never got past it It's Friday night At the liquor store Ay got a dollar bro?