Acho que tenho sono crónico.

Well, show me the way to the next whiskey bar. Oh, don't ask why. Oh, don't ask why. For if we don't find the next whiskey bar, I tell you we must die, I tell you we must die, I tell you, I tell you, I tell you we must die! Oh, moon of alabama, we now must say goodbye. We've lost our dear old mama, and must have whiskey, oh, you know why.