You buy the best single-malt that your sorry assed union parents allowed you to be able to buy.
You drink that 5th and then you shake your fist against them in rage.
You come back again and we be talkin’ some other language; maybe you be shakin’ yo’ fist at somthin’ else (dunno).
Is nobody gonna tell me what the hell is goen doewn hea.
Noeboady.