Spitting Images

I can't manage to separate
My dick from my brain
Mind seems to perpetuate
The same crooked refrain
I'll kick in your door and
Grab you right by your fucking throat
What makes you think
You can hide in your little room
And talk down to me?
Hey
It's Saturday night and I'm driving
Can't slow down
Pop gun. static
Inhuman condition
Knock one down
Seems like the harder you try
The more hardship you will find
Makes you want to take your
Frustrations out on the wife and kids
It's all their fault
It's all their fault
They stole my life
It's all for nothing
Hey
It's Saturday night and I'm dying
Can't stop now
Bathtub. swallow the laundry detergent
Force it down
This won't hurt you now. just lie down. or
Would you rather end up like your old man