Letra de Portrait of the Artist as a Fucking Asshole

Could this be the end? Alert the media Holler out message send and pass the bottle now I'll wreck today not unlike the way you saw me yesterday I'll wreck today and double over laughing with the pain Check those fears at the door and hang around a while I'll lose this heart from my sleeve just to see what burns Is this a question of what fell or just a statement of what sells And can anyone really say there's no free drinks in hell? I'm neither a poet nor a babysitter But I got a guitar and a way to kill an hour now I got no fucking pity for the fools who broke their eyes Tring to break a whole culture down to size Check those fears at the door and hang around a while I'll lose this heart from my sleeve just to see what burns Is this a question of what fell or a statement of what sells And can anyone really say there's no stiff drinks in hell? This national chemistry, it's bigger than you and me While fighting for control now have we lost touch with who we are Do you love telling your war stories while hiding your scars