As he lights an American spirit
He asks how I can smoke such shit
I say there's nothing like chaining
G-P-C cigarettes
Cuz any smokes will kill ya
But these will make you feel like it

I sit back down,
On the parking lot cur
And remember back to February
The trip to Hartford

And five minutes ago
He was passed out on the staircase
Trying to make it to his apartment
But not making it all the way

And now he's driving us
100 miles an hour down the interstate
Another beer in his hand
Swearin' we won't be late

That was before everyone moved to New Mexico
They all left a couple of months ago
Until the day my friend
When I sleep on the floor of your van again

I'll be waiting in this parking lot,
And in my dreams, I am dirty broke, beautiful, and free

My hands clenched in a fist, and my face in a smile, after hitching to many miles

We aren't revolutionaries, but we are the revolution
And sometimes I think that the whole movement is just me and you
And maybe we'd all be better off if that was true

Cuz then we'd at least know where we stand
And we could tell our comrades apart from the man
Cuz if the world isn't that simple
Maybe this town is at least

And if I'm not marching with them for war I'm sure not marching with you for peace

Class traitor? What fucking ever!
I'm just another middle class kid, too
But if I'm not good at changing, I'm good at self loathing
So I'll class hate myself with you

May our only occupation be not having a jo
And may the only cocktails we make be Molotov

May that day be now, and for as many days after that as we know how
It starts in this parking lot, and in my dreams,
I am dirty broke beautiful and free
My hands clenched in a fist, and my face in a smile,
After hitching too many miles