Testo Dirt (my Buddy, My Pal)

Look in the rearview. The grittiest street lights with freshly shaven counter parts jumping continental flights. Are we awake? Are we dreaming? Are we all obsessed with spoon-fed celebrities and southern rock guitar leads?

I thought we parted yet I still smell mountain air. We're running faster than old shoes at county fairs.

I thought we parted yet I still smell mountain air. We're running faster than old shoes at county fairs.

Black cat and your wishes in a handbag. I keep calling ‘cuz I want my fucking hat back. I'm alive, I'll just fight my eyes. Cool breeze running through the attic, called back and all I got was static. I'm alive I'll just fight my eyes.
I thought we parted yet I still smell mountain air. We're running faster than old shoes at county fairs.

I thought we parted yet I still smell mountain air. We're running faster than old shoes at county fairs.

Like a landlocked sailor with a heart of gold. Will the boys be home? Or with some foreign tour guide talking politics and the fall of Rome. (We'll I'm not a loner, sadly I'm just a bit of a rebel now.)