Picture yourself at the Lion's Head inn, now
With image-mapped trees and pixel-based skies
Someone invites you, you whisper quite slowly
A goat with lascivious eyes.

Digital beer mugs of Lion's Head ale
Served by the dull NPCs.
Look for the goat with those milky white eyes,
And she's gone.

Chorus:[Broski in Goldshire, with space goats
Broski in Goldshire, with humans
Broski in Goldshire, with night elves
Ah, ah.]

Follow her down to the innkeeper's cellar
Where partly-horse people eat size-buffing pies
Pay you no mind as you drift past the hogsheads
That loom over your girl's hairstyle.

Gnomish-made choppers appear at the door
Waiting for your dreams to fade
Climb in the sidecar that defies physics
And you're gone.

[Chorus]

Picture yourself on a tram at the Deeprun
With rat-eating porters with unstable minds
Suddenly someone is there at the platform
Your spacegoat with milky-white eyes.

[Chorus x3]