There is an old tradition,
a game we all can play.
You start by getting liquored up,
and sharpening your blade.
You take a shot of whiskey,
and you grab your knife and pray.
And spread apart your fingers,
and this is what you say.
Ooh, I have all my fingers,
the knife goes: Chop! Chop! Chop!
If I miss the spaces in-between my fingers will come of.
And if I hit my fingers, the blood will soon come out.
But all the same I play this game,
'cause that's what it's all about.
No, you can't use a pencil,
you cannot use a pen.
The only way is with a knife,
when danger is your friend.
And some may call it stupid,
some may call it dumb.
But all the same we play this game,
because it's so damn fun!
Ooh, I have all my fingers,
the knife goes: Chop! Chop! Chop!
If I miss the spaces in-between my fingers will come of.
And if I hit my fingers, the blood will soon come out.
But all the same I play this game,
'cause that's what it's all about.
Ooh! Chop! Chop! Chop! Chop! Chop! Chop! Chop!
I'm picking up the speed.
And if I hit my fingers then my hand will start to bleed.