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