I keep playin’, I’ve got somethin’ Fender
Can’t play with a glove: sounds a mess
I’ve been a missin’ notes I shouldn’t have been a missin’
I hit some but I’m jus’ guessin’ all the rest

These Strats are made for thrashin’ but I’ve had too much brew
Head a real daze from toots I’m gonna puke all over you…yeah

Feel like dyin’, need some water an’ Disprin
Coz I keep boozin’ till my quota is met
I keep messin’ now I oughta be a changin’
I’m not right tonight my pants are bean shite wet

That booze is made for drinkin’ an’ that’s just what I’ll do
One of these days that booze is gonna make my liver goo

They keep sayin’ fuel I shouldn’t be sprayin’
But I’ve been drinkin’ so that Strat’ll get burned, ha!
I don’t care: there’s a fair few knocks an’ scratches, yeah
To do that show like Hendrix, how I yearn

These Strats ain’t made for burnin’ but this one’s life is through
Look at this blaze, this Strat’s a goner, glad I’ve got a few

Are they really Strats?
Don’t burn ‘em