Alcohol
T H C
We're packin' heavy
Be all you can be
Brown bag of $20s
.45 ACP
Head full of Jupiter
As we drive into the sun
And all the good we thought we did has come undone
In the end I find I'm back where I'd begun
On an empty highway with a loaded gun
Short on sympathy
High on velocity
Damn the inertia
Sticks and stones
My broken thrones
Runnin' on envy
If the Hell I'm supposed to pay is coming due
I will write the Devil another IOU
