Driving down the freeway   As if I was on downers   Followed off the exit ramp   By a scene from close encounters      Out of the van   Walk a straight line   Lost count of the beers   Somewhere around nine   Drunk and driving, boy   You really fucked up   Now you're in the squad car   Hands in back, cuffed      Seven hundred dollars   Or eight months, son   Checked my pockets, but   I knew I had none   They took away my license   They said I can't drive   Said that I should thank them   I'm "lucky to be alive"      Locked in a cell   For weeks at a time   My friends got me out   My bail was my fine      Now I'm on the outside   Me and all my friends   Drunk and driving reckless   Just waiting to get caught again