Why I Shouldn't Be Alive

I should not be alive, I know, it's true,
for sure, after all of the things I do.
I should not be alive, after that night of shrooms,
I don't remember how much I took in that house of 20 rooms.

I am alive, but I should not be, after all you see,
my car, while I was driving, years ago, hit a tree.
I live wild and fast and fun and hard
I would not have it any other way though, otherwise I'd be lard.

When you can drive a stick-shift, four door car,
with a beer and cigarette in each hand like a star,
being alive is sure as heck a hell of a lot of luck and stuff,
so I have no reason to be unhappy and gruff.