It's a fine line between Saturday night and Sunday morning.
I slowly surrender to the child in me who can't say goodbye.
We're wanted men, we'll strike again, but first let's have a beer.
Where's the church, who took the steeple, Religion's in the hands of some crazy ass people, Television preachers with bad hair and dimples, The God's honest truth is, it's not that simple
Pickup's washed and you just got paid, with any luck at all you might even get laid.
Searching is half the fun: life is much more manageable when thought of as a scavenger hunt as opposed to a surprise party.