A man walks into a bar, he says, "Give me a Bacardi and Coke!"
The Back o' Beyond Repair welcomes the broken and the broke
Blather hitches a ride on the back of second-hand smoke
And the man, well, he'll be the punchline in someone else's joke

I'll beat this drink, it's a habit I'll kick
Please help me now, I'm gonna be sick
Something hit me, I wound up on the floor
Damn this Bacardi, I don't want any more

A man walks into a think-tank full of hooch and future sales
Mixing wish lists with extention plans re: Guantanamo jail
Smell the solid beech, and a whiff of cannot fail
And a gilt-tray chock with goblets dripping cut-throat cocktails

And they drink a toast to Florida and all its air-conditioned hum
And they damn the health of Cuba and they damn its bona fide rum
He sucks a kalamata olive, spits out the stone
And he mimics crushing people between forefinger and thumb

I'll beat this drink, it's a habit I'll kick
Please help me now, I'm gonna be sick
Something hit me, I wound up on the floor
Damn this Bacardi, I don't want any more

The first man wakes up in the same bar, but it's different, as in a dream
In fact it's someone else's dream, clean sheets and new regime
Fidel burns as Nero roams, "Give the bar a zip code!"
"See you..." "Si... C.U.", and it's one more for the road
I'll beat this drink, it's a habit I'll kick
Please help me now, I'm gonna be sick
Something hit me, I wound up on the floor
Damn this Bacardi, I don't want any more