High as a drone, bald as an eagle
Monday, Tuesday, everyday people
They know freedom ain’t free, there’s a $2 cover
To come watch a weeknight blend into another
Here comes that feelgood nervous breakdown that gets me every time
I try to be here in person, try to stay out past nine
Feel that white-hot country panic, every single song says,
This is who I am, this is what I want

And they say more of it
And they say don’t hide it
And they say you’ll love it
If baby, you just try it

Now I read all the latest fistfights and the entertainment news
‘Bout who makes $60 a night to pour peroxide on the blues
When they stop through on their way to Portland or LA
Sign our bathroom walls, while we’re circling the drain
And there’s a TV from the 90s, still flickers in the dark
As all the evening anchors read the news from where we aren’t
How pretty people get in trouble, pretty people get ahead
And fill the pretty magazines (most of ours are filled with lead)

And they say more of it
And they say don’t hide it
And they say you’ll love it
If baby, you just try it

My country tis of thee, but she don’t look at me
No she don’t look at me, she never looks at me
Just stares right out the window with contempt across her face
With a scab on every knuckle and a keyring hung with Mace
So stagger back to where you parked and hope your window isn’t smashed
You sometimes carry heat but you try not to carry cash
And now the air is getting heavy and the pavement shiny wet
And we’re all standing in the puddle of the bullets that we’ve sweat

And they say more of it
And they say don’t hide it
And they say you’ll love it
If baby, you just try it
And so leave your tears
Leave them in the dust
Baby, angels fear
To tread on us
Tread on us