Made for Me

A man walks into a bar, the guards are looking frisky

He says give me two loaded shots of your most expensive whisky

No sir, we sell no shots and you can't smoke that in here

There's a curfew on all stiff drinks and we only sell imported beer

What's a man to do when he wants a drink chased with another?

What is this world I suffer? No inebriation without a buffer

Quit gawkin' boy or I'll employ my small and orange hands

I'll start a fight, I'm not too bright and I'm loaded up on contraband

I guess this world ain't made for me

I'll bring it all down and burn the trees