Except for the Weeds
The road was dark, the music was loud.
The party was on, our spirits were proud.
We got our bag, we smoked till we was giddy.
We smoked all night long till even the dogs were pretty.
We stopped at the party, and picked up some girls.
We went to the back, behind the barn, chasing skirts like
little squirrels.
We knocked off a piece, then jumped in our cars,
We got out the booze, put the music up loud, and the peddle
down hard.
We never felt anything, our heads were as stoned as that
ridge.
Then out of the night came that truck that sent us flying over
the side of that bridge.
Now I have nothing but a head stone, and two parents to
grieve, and no one to remember me except for the weeds.
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