We only had forty-five minutes
Before we were to start our show
Our roadies had set up our gear

And we were (more than) ready to go
Then the owner of the bar came to see us
And he told us that we would't get paid
The thrashers in the bar had to wonder why the show was delayed
Violence condoned
Cough up the dough
We packed our guitars, we got in our cars
We drove off and we never looked back
Six fucking albums, still dealing with welchers
I think I'm about to attack
I love all our