A call away, happy to hear, a voice, no force, friends make the best noise. The gang's all here and we can't wait. There's no gas, just hope and a laugh I can taste. I sense danger, hands hold old friends. A tremor, a pressure, wear this "raspberry sweater". I smell an end, so let go with the fist. It's the gift of G.A.B., you're my friend so drink this. It's the beginning of the end. Killing inhibitions hold my cares. Hit the streets the next round is on me. Sing our songs and break some shit, while we make a toast from under the stairs. Here's a gift from me to you, pass it around the whole room. It may be the last time, we'll make a toast from under the stairs. This generation of debt and rent, us kids are lost but we're with each other. The year may pass unsuccessful, but with the gift of G.A.B. we all get hopeful. One more round for the kids in the back. One last cheer, make some noise, a planned attack. Hold me close, can't fight this alone. Beat up streets, no hope but home.
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