| Juveniles, hide your porno mags |
| The girl’s got problems at her yard so she’s packing up her bags full of rags |
| Her man got down from Po Na Na |
| While the Madre still in the kitchen smokes a 20-deck fags |
| Body bags come back on planes from wartorn Iraq |
| It’s the stark naked truth, a dark aftermath |
| Baby T, the juice and the dog just barks |
| Remember man the bully always had the last laugh |
| It was a blast last night down the old 12 Bar |
| White socks, black shoes with the ballads in the car |
| With a lump in the throat she won’t understand |
| Twos on a cigarette it’s all blah blah |
| Bloody obli obla dah glug down liquor |
| Life goes on for all the daytrippers |
| Starts off small but it’s gonna get bigger |
| By the end of this letter it may all be better |
| Well she’s always asking with the who, where and how |
| The girls say ooh la la Well if I had another chance I’d do it differently now |
| And the girls say ooh la la la la la la la From Trafalger Square where the crackpipe |