It's already four and we're here
Windows half-closed on helpless roads
And so, Saturday's gone like this too
We drank, danced, someone scored
The dumbest got smacked and his face looks like this
Hard shadows, fit for the hour
Meanwhile the car stereo plays
And we pound our feet even more
Till the beat keeps going we'll make it to morning
Holding ourselves up with
And God help whoever wakes us
As usual there's the one who
Never holds his liquor so we gotta pull over
Tailgating a soft wake
A tempting strip, so welcoming
We lose our breath and whatever happens, happens
And the speakers are crammed
The sounds are violent but
It's that we've still got plenty of gas
One does the drums, the other the guitar
You bass, keyboards, me voice
The playback idiots make
And God help whoever wakes us
And God help whoever wakes us