Shoot a 45

Shoot a 45 and drive
Out past nothing
All the fields you pass and crash
Like you’re supposed to
I know that much
I want it back
I know that much
I want it back
You won a ticker tape parade
You paid in triplicate
But your undershirt is choked
With the poems that you wrote in red
And you roll your eyes
And you cross your T’s for me
Shoot a 45
And drive
Out past nothing
I know that much
I want it back
I know that much
I want it back