Fastball Freddy told me "Hey good bye"
Off to Tampa, I asked, "Why? Why?"
Tampa's ass, Tampa's cruel
Au revoir, mon ami. S'agit-il d'un coup?
But he don't stop, for no shortstop
He went out to the parking lot
And he got in his car and he drove real far
And you cry all night, till you see a light
And it comes right down, and it lands on the ground
And out come some wannabe stars
One can run, one's got a gun
But you read the thread, and you shit your bed!
And read about these wannabe stars
You go out at night, egging cars
You egg Cadillacs, a Coupe deVille
'Cause of Aidan Smith, and Gary Gill Hill
And you don't stop, you keep on egging cars
Then, when there's no more cars, you go out at night
And egg some bars where Met fans meet
Emelien Pitre, what the fuck?
Canadian shortstop, gotta suck!
He broke his toe, he moves too slow
And Uncle Steve, I'm through with cars
I'm egging bars, yeah, hall to hall
Citi Field, wall to wall
I'm gonna egg 'em all
Rapture, be pure!
David Stearns? still a Brewer?
Don't strain your brain, take the Seven Train
You'll be singin' through the pain
Said, don't stop! Do punk rock