Don't throw it away, don't be telling me that I'm cut off.
I am so thirsty as you can see I've been dancing my butt off.
While I'm in can, dust out my ashtray inside
and it won't be long before you and me run to the place in our car where we can
imbibe.

And I guess that's why they call it the booze,
drinks in my hands could be well spilled on you.
Laughing like loonies, talk if I'm able, spiking my drink from under the table,
and I guess that's why they call it the booze.

Just stare into space, holding my face in my hands.
It's almost 1:30, no longer act flirty, and never did find me a man.
Without a ride, call me a cab if it helps, but more than ever,
I got to get home and sleep it off by myself

And I guess that's why they call it the booze,
rum on my hands and there's Coke on my shoes
Acting like children, looking for lovers, hate the bartender, think I will shove 'er,
and I guess that's why they call it the booze.

I'm just a girl, cry in the beer if it helps, but more than ever,
I simply must choose not to do this to myself.
And I guess that's why they call it the booze,
lime on my hands and salt if you choose.
Acting so crazy, too many lovers, who's that I wonder under the covers?
and I guess that's why they call it the booze.
And I guess that's why they call it the booze.
And I guess that's why they call it the booze.
And I guess that's why they call it the booze.