The Show Songtext
Songtext powered by LyricFind
Mom and dad won't you let me go
'round the bay to the town to the club to the show
Gordo is driving his grandpa's white truck
Don't mind the way we dress the way we drive
the way we never talk
Bottle of Vodka and five Dixie cups
From the front of the cab to the back of the white truck
Spikes and old boots and a sense of impending confusion
And I've got a five dollar ticket in my hand
We'll I'm misunderstood I'm a troubled young hood
'round the bay to the town to the club to the show
Gordo is driving his grandpa's white truck
Don't mind the way we dress the way we drive
the way we never talk
Bottle of Vodka and five Dixie cups
From the front of the cab to the back of the white truck
Spikes and old boots and a sense of impending confusion
And I've got a five dollar ticket in my hand
We'll I'm misunderstood I'm a troubled young hood
and I'm going to see the band
Yes I'm misunderstood and I just ain't no good
and I'm going to see the band
I picked up John and Elise at Maria's house
She's got her hair spiked and he's got his Clash t-shirt on
It's a week night there's plenty of cars on the road so let's go
Let's hit the highway go right past the theater
The sound check's about over
Oh babe can't you feel it
The bass drum the snare drum the floor tom
all ready to rumble and stumble right into my stomach
I got a green stamp because I'm under age
But it really don't matter because I'm already wasted
trying not to smile because I'm trying to be cool
With my pins and my thin tie and oversized suit coat
Hands in my pocket I'm pushing my way
right next to the monitors in front of the stage
The mic stand's got a row of brown picks and the set list is readable
Yes I'm misunderstood and I just ain't no good
and I'm going to see the band
I picked up John and Elise at Maria's house
She's got her hair spiked and he's got his Clash t-shirt on
It's a week night there's plenty of cars on the road so let's go
Let's hit the highway go right past the theater
The sound check's about over
Oh babe can't you feel it
The bass drum the snare drum the floor tom
all ready to rumble and stumble right into my stomach
I got a green stamp because I'm under age
But it really don't matter because I'm already wasted
trying not to smile because I'm trying to be cool
With my pins and my thin tie and oversized suit coat
Hands in my pocket I'm pushing my way
right next to the monitors in front of the stage
The mic stand's got a row of brown picks and the set list is readable
Songtext powered by LyricFind