5 below zero, white snow falling down

Covers the animal shit on the ground

Elders on crutches staggering around

But in Loboville a big party is on

The man on the 3^rd floor rigs amps in the shade

A passionate fiddler, but teacher by trade

Cute absent-minded, face-to-face with the crowd

He remembers that his fiddle’s back home

The boy next door wants to leave us

Looking for a better neighborhood

Through his wildly staring eyes

I can see that it’s a lie

Buddy, your company’s been good

Twoshed’s on a beer-flight into nowhere

Mobilizes his last will, acting sober

Happy New Year you Loboville collective

The play station girl rules the cat paradise

The mammals well fed and sterilized

She’s afraid of the darkness, leaders and cops

If you wind up her pretty mouth she’s hard to stop

Exciting rumors, a new guy on the first

There’s disco for leisure and wine for the thirst

Football and ladies fight in his brain

But to keep the dust away is the main

The thin guy is guided by his queeny

Doctors and pharmacy industry

A manipulated man

When his day reaches the end

All his trouble belongs to his friends

The longhaired devil rushes up a D. sign

Then he goes for a pee that runs 3 times

Happy New Year you Loboville collective

The black-bearded man tries to carry

Fireworks and 4 beers in a bag

Runs the elevator down

Plants a bottle on the ground

Then he sets the fuse on fire with his fag

The night turns out in a sick Nashville country

Recorded by a clean-washed B. I. T.

Happy New Year you Loboville collective