:
There is an old tradition,
A game we all can play.
You start by getting liquored up
And sharpening your blade.
You take a shot of whiskey,
You grab your knife and pray
And spread apart your fingers,
And that is what you say:
:
Oh!
I have all my fingers,
The knife goes chop! Chop! Chop!
If I miss the spaces in between
My fingers will come off!
And if I hit my fingers,
Blood will soon come out.
But all the same I play this game
Cause that's what it's all about.
No, you can't use a pencil!
You can not use a pen!
The only way is with a knife,
When danger is your friend.
And some may call it stupid,
Some may call it dumb.
But all the same we play this game
Because it's so damn fun!
:
Oh!
I have all my fingers,
The knife goes chop! Chop! Chop!
If I miss the spaces in between
My fingers will come off!
And if I hit my fingers,
The blood will soon come out.
But all the same I play this game
Cause that's what it's all about.
:
Oh!
Chop! Chop! Chop! Chop! Chop! Chop! Chop!
I'm picking up the speed.
And if I hit my fingers
Then my hand will start to bleed!
Этот текст прочитали 1935 раз.