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    Yard trip number seven's
    The one that they painted on the lawn
    And if we load it up into this gun
    Soon it'll all be gone
    Quarter to eleven on the day of my birth
    In the desert wind I would have a grin
    That might shatter the earth
    Whoa

    There's three short ways to live again
    Crumble like paper upon my skin
    They all tell you to try
    But you're gonna cry
    When no one cares where you've been

    Couple days of driving in circles I'd rather spin
    We've got eight more lives and two more tries
    And six ways for drifting beyond
    Whoa

    Yard trip number seven's the one they
    Tried to steal from heaven
    And if we load it up into this gun
    Soon it'll all be gone
    Whoa

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