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Wake up son we've got to go
Throw on some clothes we've gotta go
Take this foreign car and drive four hundred miles just down the road
I'll see ya' in a bout a week
We'll take a silver lincoln to the beach to frolic in the sand and sun
But don't forget discrete
We're laying low from this heat
They don't need a better impression to make their heads play
Infatuation games curiousity with lives of strangers
Vacation hide out paranoid
Intimidating concscoius droid
Dpend to many wasted energies afraid to go back home
I wonder if the news is true
Don't quite wanna fall into the same adjusted
sick mentality of always on the run
When I'm not quite done here
Going back to small town reality in the morning
Carefree secret story and rockin' chair in the country
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