I think I'm an all around Norwegian On my eighteenth birthday My daddy gave me a gun And I am what you'd call A real good sport And I was born and raised In a trailor court
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My neighborhood's got the distinction Of being all the same There are rows and rows Of divorcees in a metal frame My life goes on - It's my last resort And I'm gonna die - In a trailor court
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OH NO!
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Now do you see just a little bit of a paradox Your living or dead Your stuck in a box Your life goes on - It's your last resort On a dead end road - In a trailor court
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