Ba dom, ba dom, ba dom, ba dom. Your eyes wwim in the beer where the bar room lights are hung. With your friend Jo Jo, with your friend Pierre, You drink a toast to being young. Jo Jo thinks he's Voltaire, Pierre he's Casanova, And me, I proudly do not care. Me, me, now I am Navratilova. And at midnight we watched the salesmen pa** coming out of hotels with real cla**. We showed them our good manners and we showed them our a**. And how we sang: The middle cla** are just like pigs, The older they get the fatter they get. The middle cla** are just like pigs, The fatter they get the less they regret. Ba dom, ba dom, ba dom, ba dom. Your heart feels so right, Swim in the beer where the barroom lights are hung. With your friend Jo-Jo, with your Pierre, Holding on to being Jung, Volitaire danced like a vicar, but Casanova was too stout. And me, I proudly did not care. And Paul stank until we pa**ed out. And at midnight we watched the salesmen pa**, coming out of hotels with real cla**. We showed them our manners and we showed them our a**. And how we sang: The middle cla** are just like pigs, The older they get the fatter they get. The middle cla** are just like pigs, The fatter they get the less they regret. Ba dom, ba dom, ba dom, ba dom. But your heart's gone down your eyes do not flash. The hotel bartender sings our praise. Now Jo Jo is no clown, Pierre pays in cash. Among the bookkeepers we spend our days, Now Jo Jo just speaks of Voltaire and Casanova is just a book on the shelf. And me, I proudly do not care, Me, me, me, me, me, I speak only of myself. And everybody knows that we've got real cla**, There's not an evening we cannot pa**. Those lousy little kids always showing their a**, Oh God, how they sing: The middle cla** are just like pigs, The older they get the fatter they get. The middle cla** are just like pigs, The fatter they get the less they regret.