"We're goin' down the road towards tiny cities made of ashes I'm gonna' hit you on the face, I'm gonna' punch you in your glasses. Oh no! I just got a message that said "Yeah, hell is freezin' over." I Got a phone call from the Lord sayin', "Hey boy get a sweater. Right now." So we're drinkin', drinkin', drinkin', drinkin', coca-coca-cola I can feel it rollin' right on down, oh right on down my throat"