In the fall we can go huntin' down by the banks of old Mill Creek   Oh, you're guns all rusted out and mine's just made for shooting skeet   Oh, we can leave 'em in the truck and take two pints of wild turk   And when they ask us what we got, we'll say, "Well, we got out of work"      And either you got longer legs or you got bigger lungs   Cause I know for a fact we done the same amount of drugs   And I'm lying in a heap on the side of the trail   While you take the shortcuts up to the top of the hill      But anyway, I'm terrified of heights   You gotta climb it alone   But when you get to the top, won't you holler back down   What's it look like up there?   I always kinda wanted to know   Woah, woah      Well, I got me a stereo I keep kinda low   Until a good song comes on, and then I kinda let her go   There's still music out there that warms my insides   It makes my days a tiny little bit more demiserified   Like right now Bob Wells and his Playboys are talking   Bout how the big man gets the money while the little one picks the cotton   And the big fish eats the little fish, but that little fish was really bait   And I eat that big fish up with a silver spoon and a paper plate   The utensil I received from my mother and dad   But the plate I made myself with my own two hands   And I don't mind either one just as long as nobody knows   Woah, woah      Well, I remember the day with my brother and his best friend   They burst into my room looking like the world come to an end   They said there's a fire on the hill, but it's near the reservoir   We can put it out but we gotta take mom and dad's car   And I cursed both   And then I said lets go   Woah, woah      You're giving me that look that says you're in it deep   Unless that's the look that says tonight don't plan on any sleep   I guess I'll take my chances with the one, hold out hope for the other   But girl, oh, wait a second, that smile's kinda blowing your cover   And we're sucking in the wind and snow through the cracks between our smiles   Making tracks back to the village, though we still got a couple miles   Where we can sharpen up our fangs, flatten out our feathers   And thank the good lord up above for this god awful weather      And if it's too good just tell me, I'll do something wrong   But I'm thinking that you're winking cause you kinda like this song   And that bottle of Sangria wasn't such a bad idea after all   Woah, woah