Duty Free

No chocolate
In the Duty Free shop
Two drops of scotch
Gonna end up on his crotch
Tonight
All alone
Sitting on the throne
Some native tongue on the TV
Blaring like an old Peavey
He don't aim to be rude
He's fighting with his inner Prude
Some pommes frites
And you know it's gonna drip
On to his lap
Yes, see the man slapping it off
Traveling
Will do him in
Trudging through the waves of people
'til his heart is cluttered and feeble
If you take him out of his loop
He may be very easily duped
Still he beats the stampede
For the Duty Free
He's using up all that old currency
He's using up all that old currency
Using up all that old currency