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Deep in his den, amping up for the show
Drinking heavily, doing some blow
His eyes glazed with red lines streaking his sclera
Moshing his heart out to Pantera
8 o'clock sharp, already in line
Perspiring foul, odorous brine
Ready for battle, he'll face death in the pit
Tonight he may die, but he don't give a shit!

What's he never given?
-A Goddamn shit!
Reason for living?
-Death in the Pit!

Chicagogre rises up from the crowd,
Surfs to the front, then crashes to the ground
After the show, to the night he is bound
To wander the streets 'til the next gig is found

Second song of the first band of the night,
He rips off his shirt, fuckin' ready to fight
Should your paths meet you will surely die
Turn and run cause he is too drunk to try
His stench marks his presence, you don't need more proof
As he points at himself, then points to the roof
With a drunken roar, he commands that we lift
To the front of the stage, he is offered as a gift

What's he never given?
-A GODDAMN SHIT!
Reason for living?
-DEATH IN THE PIT!

Here is the site, where he must fight
On this dark and evil, full-mooned night
People running and screaming for the door
Chicagogre battle lives forevermore!

Surfed to the front, he roars for more thrust,
Should he fall on you, you'll be crushed beyond dust,
Reaches the railing, aghast are the security,
Screaming for backup, they must catch this monstrosity!
End over end he falls to the floor
Crushing a guard to death as he shouts "Once More!"
Back in the pit so he may die in battle
Banging his head, his mind's fucking addled!

What's he never given?
-A Goddamn shit!
Reason for living?
-Death in the Pit!

The Chicagogre rises up from the crowd,
Surfs to the front, then crashes to the ground
After the show, to the night he is bound
To wander the streets 'til the next gig is found

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