There is an old tradition, a game we all can play

You start by getting liquored up and sharpening your blade

You take a shot of whiskey, you grab your knife and pray

And spread apart your fingers, and this is what you say

"Oh, I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop, chop, chop

If I miss the spaces in between, my fingers will come off

And if I hit my fingers, the blood will soon come out

But all the same, I play this game 'cause that's what it's all about"

No, you can't use a pencil, you cannot use a pen

The only way is with a knife when danger is your friend

And some may call it stupid, some may call it dumb

But all the same, we play this game because it's so damn fun

Oh, I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop, chop, chop

If I miss the spaces in between, my fingers will come off

And if I hit my fingers, the blood will soon come out

But all the same, I play this game 'cause that's what it's all about

Oh, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, I'm picking up the speed

And if I hit my fingers, then my hand will start to bleed