Screwing Yer Courage

It’s summer
The hair’s grown in
On my upper thigh
Just like so much corn
In late July
But is it summer
I’m shaking and my feet are bitter cold
I need some fries to go with that shake
I need to grease back my hair
Or let it whip in my face
Let it whip my face
I love you
Baby, I love you
I love you
Baby, I love you
We’ll stock up on canned goods
And move to the woods
We’ll find a piece of land
And quit this fucking band
I love you
Baby, I love you
I love you
Baby, I love you