While practicing licks in a warehouse, we think.
He looked for some change to buy a cold drink.

It was the most gruesome turns of events
When Mr. F. Blister lost all of his cents

He turned on his heel to see where it had dropped
Not knowing the floor had been recently mopped

He slipped on the platform and fell down the stairs
Went under the railing and crashed through some chairs

He dropped thirty feet and straight into a vat
Of sulfuric acid, (not losing his hat)

He played his guitar most all the way down
He knew he had some of the best riffs in town

His skin filled with blisters, a terrible sight
But the dead man plays on, most every night.