Lyrics
'33'
They've given their lectures and smiled at their guests
They're through being confessors, they've turned out the light
They've suffered through papers and graded their tests
And the history professors are drinking tonight
Yes, the history professors are drinking tonight
Bartender bartender, bring me a beer
For I've labored all day in the factory of minds
And I don't need reminders of sweet oils and thyme
And I don't want a bottle of bourgeois ideas
Just a Rolling Rock
A Rock to Roll
Down my tongue through my throat
To my old white man Soul
"From the Glass-Lined Tanks of Old Latrobe
We Tender this Premium Beer
For your Enjoyment
As a Tribute to your Good Taste
It Comes From the Mountain Springs
To you, to you … 33"
33, to you, 33
They're boyishly sleazy and charmingly broke
With the sweet sad aroma of middle aged men
They can puncture your thesis with an erudite joke
And the history professors are shit-faced again
Yes, the history professors are shit-faced again
Bartender bartender, bring me a beer
For I've cooked until dry where ideas go to die
And I want to remember that life is just cruel
And I don't want a bottle of "honey, how cool"
Just a Rolling Rock
A Rock to Roll
Down my tongue through my throat
To my White Devil Soul
"From the Glass-Lined Tanks of Old Latrobe
We Tender this Premium Beer
For your Enjoyment
As a Tribute to your Good Taste
It Comes From the Mountain Springs
To you, to you … 33"
33, to you, 33