I consume everything the world shoves in my face I drink, I eat, I live it And it is not my choice No more crack in voice Yeah Unicorns and trolley cars Blank checks and dollar cards Get your nuts out of your bank account The hunt is on (The hunt is on, the hunt is on, the hunt is on) You shoot a grenade Out of your flames Like a plumber from a clogged drain Variety is the spice of death [?] strain Like a fat man on a plane Well there's no trust fund kids Can't find the money kin On the lips of the stone wind Stand in line like cows I repeat Stand in line like cows And snort like fuckin' sows Remember, boss, remember The world go 'round for the both of us The both of us Well, it's a seventh inning stretch, huh? Stand up, stretch it out Cut me like a bonesaw It's an unwritten law And the world still goes 'round for the both of us Aw, for the both of us