[Verse 1, Scuzzy] Dookie and me, drinkin’ on a slow night. Bar smells like piss and broken fights. Then Death walks in—just stands at the door. I go, “You look thirsty.” He don’t say more. I slap the counter. “Let’s make it fun. A drinkin' contest. You win—and I’m done.” [Chorus 1, Scuzzy] This hyena drinks from sunset til rise. But if I lose, Death gets his little prize. Still clear fuckin' eyed, savoring my shots. So pour the next round — s'bout to get hot. [Verse 2, Scuzzy] First round—bourbon. Second—rum. Third is something thick that burns my tongue. He keeps pace. He don’t sway, he don't spill. Just slams it back with that bone-white chill. No cough, no stumble. No color in his skull. But I’ve never backed down from any goddamn ghoul. [Chorus 2, Scuzzy] This hyena don’t blink, choke, or gag. If I lose, he scrams with my soul in a sack. I’m wobbling now, but I’m not on the floor. So pour the next round — who's keepin' score? [Verse 3, Scuzzy] Fuckin' finish the vodka. We finish the gin. He nods once. I answer with a grin. I can feel my hands start to miss the glass. Can’t read the label on the bottom shelf flask. But he don’t falter—not a single crack. Don’t even seem to care how much we knock back. [Chorus 3, Scuzzy] This hyena chugs, foot in the grave. If I lose, the Reaper gets what he craves. I’m sideways, sure—but I’m still in control. So pour the next round — Gotta dig outta this hole... [Bridge, Dookie] Then I see – The floor under his stool's fuckin' soaked. Brown liquor just pooling under his robes. He ain’t cheating. He’s got nowhere for it to go. No stomach, no liver—just ribs where it flows. I say, “Scuzz, stop. You can’t win this.” But she's slumped forward, glass still in her fist. [Verse 4, Dookie] Death stands up, reaching for her head. I flare my wings and croak, “Not just yet.” “Double or nothin’. You beat me, we’re both yours.” He turns that skull, dry as a church floor. “You? You’re drunk already, bird.” “HA! Drunk's when I'm sharpest, or ain't you heard?” [Chorus 4, Dookie] This hyena’s the last goddamn spark. If I lose her, I’m swallowed by the dark. My throat’s a furnace, my liver’s steel. So pour the next round — I’m the real deal. [Verse 5, Dookie] We start up again. Absinthe. Rye. I blink through two bottles with one bloodshot eye. He doesn’t spill. He don’t sway. I wipe my beak, fuckin' “Not today.” “You’re losing fast,” he hissed through teeth. “I’m just gettin' started, believe me.” [Chorus 5, Dookie] This hyena I'd follow to hell. If I lose her, there's no fuckin' farewell. I’m soaked in fire, can't feel the ground. But pour the next round — I fuckin' can’t back down. "Ha! Here it comes!" [Verse 6, gruff gravelly male vocal, harsh rough] I leaned in close, breath hot with rotgut. “We can go all night — tomorrow, too, but... I'm a fuckin' owl – I know my time an', Lemme tell you, my bell ain't chimin'. Fate don’t bend, so I can’t lose. You’re stuck here now, with me 'n my booze.” [Pre-Chorus, Dookie] He tipped his skull and said, “Well played. But all debts come — just not today.” Then out he went, in the smoke and black. I hugged her with my wing and slumped like a sack. [Chorus 6, Dookie] This hyena’s sleepin’, safe and secure. You lost, old bones — bested by a fuckin' bird. I’m drunk but I’m smiling — she’s still breathing near, So pour the next round — it’s waiting for her here. "Welp... I'm sure that's the last we'll fuckin' hear from that ol' Reaper. Ha."
