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 Ts 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