Yard trip number seven's The one that they painted on the lawn And if we load it up into this gun Soon it'll all be gone Quarter to eleven on the day of my birth In the desert wind I would have a grin That might shatter the earth Whoa
There's three short ways to live again Crumble like paper upon my skin They all tell you to try But you're gonna cry When no one cares where you've been
Couple days of driving in circles I'd rather spin We've got eight more lives and two more tries And six ways for drifting beyond Whoa
Yard trip number seven's the one they Tried to steal from heaven And if we load it up into this gun Soon it'll all be gone Whoa
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