Wake up son we've got to go    Throw on some clothes we've gotta go    Take this foreign car and drive four hundred miles just down the road    I'll see ya' in a bout a week    We'll take a silver lincoln to the beach to frolic in the sand and sun    But don't forget discrete       We're laying low from this heat    They don't need a better impression to make their heads play    Infatuation games curiousity with lives of strangers       Vacation hide out paranoid    Intimidating concscoius droid    Dpend to many wasted energies afraid to go back home    I wonder if the news is true    Don't quite wanna fall into the same adjusted sick mentality of always on the run       When I'm not quite done here    Going back to small town reality in the morning    Carefree secret story and rockin' chair in the country