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