The population is greatly decreased.
And now the odds are greatly increased.
That i may someday get a chance,
To kiss your lips.
I thank the lo-o-ord each day,
For the apocalypse.

Folks are mostly disfigured or dead
But, sugar, i wont let it go to my head.
My mama's face has dripped down into the dirt.

But i'm still chasin' chitlins, whiskey and skirt.

Lyrics submitted by shassouneh

Chitlins Whiskey and Skirt (a.k.a The Apocalypse) song meanings
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