Well you could always count on your friends to get you high
|
That's right
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And you could always count on the 'rents to get you by
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You could fly
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And now they make you piss into a plastic cup
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And give it up
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The cup will probably be here long after we're gone
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What's wrong
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They'll probably dig it up a thousand years from now
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And how
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They'll probably wonder what the hell we used it for
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And more
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This must be the cup the king held every night
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As he cried
|
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Well maybe you should go out and write your own damn song
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And move on
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|
-----------------
|
Plastic Cup
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| Low |
