Ian Gillan, Tony Iommi, Ian Paice, Roger Glover - Thrashed

It really was a meeting The bottle took a beating The ladies of the manor Watched me climb into my car and I was Going down the track about a hundred and five They had the stopwatch rolling I had the headlights blazing I was really alive And yet my mind was blowing I drank a bottle of tequila and I felt real good I had the tape deck roaring But on the twenty-fifth lap at the canal turn I went off exploring I knew I wouldn't make it the car just wouldn't make it I was turning the tires burning The ground was in my sky I was laughing the bitch was trashed And death was in my eye I had started pretty good and I was feeling my way I had the wheels in motion There was Peter and the Greenfly laughing like drains Inebriation The crowd was roaring I was at Brands Hatch In my imagination But at the canal turn I hit an oily patch Inebriation Ooh Mr. Miracle, you saved me from some pain I thank you Mr. Miracle, I won't get trashed again Ooh, can you hear my lies Don't you bother with this fool just laugh into my eyes So we went back to the bar and hit the bottle again But there was no tequila Then we started on the whiskey just to steady our brains 'Cause there was no tequila And as we drank a little faster at the top of our hill We began to roll And as we got trashed we were laughing still Oh bless my soul