Empty pockets
Your karma is bad
No one to love and
You're totally mad
Go out and get some
Get a couple of beers
And sing a song about your
True needs
You're a greasy rocker
Playin' at local bars
Gettin' drunk heavily
You're covered in scars
Your Gibson's dead, man
Your shoes are rotten
Your hair's unkempt
Your nose is broken
Hey y'all in a bar
Stand up your asses
Dance when a bluesman
Is breakin' your glasses
I know I'm a bad luck
And I know you're fun
And I got a riff for you
Sons of guns