One hundred bottles of beer on the floor
One hundred bottles of beer
Less than twenty days from drowning in the last five years
A ring sucked from a finger
A desert that sucks dreams
Sand under grass, under fountains, under trees
The pit sees only half of what you're spending
Roulette wheels spinning, join in on the winning
As pirates sail down sidewalks we drink beer in paper bags
No stopping, standing, homeless sidewalks, celebratory atmosphere sags
And we wonder “will it ever rain again?”
We wonder on our money
On our bottled rum and gin
Party Central can only hold so much: lights, skies
And horizons, drinks, buffets, but enough talk and games, now it's time to die
One hundred bottles on the ground
And a last glance from the floor to the desert sky
