(feat. William Beckett)

My life‘s these yellow lines, concrete, and parliment butts
Exhaust fumes and rest stops who drive hard for their bucks
Load in, sound check, play show, load out, let‘s go, next city, oh great, off day
Hangovers, hangups, dialbacks, running make up, apologies and promises
And nobody acknowledges that boys in bands got it so damn bad
But we love like the last cigarette we‘ll ever have
I‘m putting miles>