Crowded and spoiled
The smell of soiled
Chopped liver and charbroiled
Cooked in the sun
Cooked by the sun
The days all roll into one
Check my loaded gun
Strapped in and on the run
Running from everyone
Never trusting anyone
Dry grass burns
Sweet grass
Have to make a pass
Have to get out of here fast
If we are going to last
In an instant
In a flash
We spend our time
Like we spend our cash
Depending on how we see the glass
Half full or half empty
Depends how much is in the glass
And I'd say half is plenty
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