Bowling Song (Almighty Malachi, Professional Bowling God) Lyrics

You watch me on your TV.
Say that my job is easy.
Say I am not athletic.
You think my sport's pathetic.

But you can't judge me 'till you've
walked a mile in my bowling shoes.

So I don't get all the ladies.
Got a mullet from the 80's
I am known throughout the valleys
As the prophet of alleys.

And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me bowl or let me die!"
I'm almighty Malachi, the bowling god.
The smell of rosin gets my high.
Kiss those f**kin' pins goodbye!
I'm almighty Malachi, the bowling... bowling... god.

Got a ball that's smooth and all black.
I keep it in my favorite ball-sac.
I get a feeling in my soul.
As I finger every hole.

And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me bowl or let me die!"
I'm almighty Malachi, the bowling god.
The smell of rosin gets my high.
Kiss those mother f**kin' pins goodbye!
I'm almighty Malachi, the bowling... bowling...

Not a single man will try, to beat almighty Malachi.
All who challenge me are slain.
Come on, f**kers pick a lane.
Marshall Home and Gary d**kens, get in line for your a*s kickins'.
John Patracky and Norton Duke, your so lame it makes me puke.
Who amongst the pro-bowl sector.
Dares to don his wrist protector.
Not that pus*y Nelson Burton, tells me that his wrist is hurtin'.
Hey Mark Walfey, Earl the Pearl, are ya' scared to give the ball a hurl?
How bout' d**key Webber and his son Pete? I'll turn the motha f**kas to cream of wheat!

And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me bowl or let me die!"
I'm almighty Malachi, the bowling god.
The smell of rosin gets my high.
Kiss those f**kin' pins goodbye!
I'm almighty Malachi, the bowling... bowling god
Yeah, the bowling god

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