I know you hate that job

I know you hate the buzz of the fixtures

You wanna run

But the gas fumes knock you out

and there’s a two for one on liquor

You want the upper hand

All they’re handing you is cash

it ain't for your pocket

Plane tickets too much

Seats were never meant for us

How much does it cost

To get to Cali in bottle rockets

I hate it too

I hate the way they’ve taken your spark

Ashes on their shoes

And it’s always the pretty ones

They stop from going up first

Big finale blues

Tell me what you need

Lemme take your order for a change

I know that I can’t change your world

But I can show you it can change

You want the upper hand

Can I get a Grizzly can

Get the ID out the pocket

You’re laughing at the fact

You’ve been smoking in the back

Coughing stuck between the gas

And the bottle rockets

Blow it all away

Burn it all away

None of this is what they promised

“All it takes, is for me to drop this, and they’ll see this place from California they’ll see it everywhere! From down here, up there, and brother-“

What a sight it would be