It's the rat-level, pitch man song of the summer
The kind that breaks and it stings like a something-or-other
About a girl, or a car, or subliminal mother
Smell that price, man, I'm dying, man, to buy what they're selling
I get the Sunday scaries every day of the week
And it grinds me down when I hear the voice speak
It's a ton to ignore with no way to debrief
You can spin your wheels but the deeper I'll sink
I got a house and a yard in the middle of nowhere
I have a wife and a dog and a half-a-kid somewhere
I get the Sunday scaries every day of the week
And it grinds me down when I hear the voice speak
Yeah the money's alright, I guess that's a relief
I learned to love the bomb now the bomb loves me
Oh now
We have a lot to remember
We have a lot to remember
It's the rat-level, pitch man song of the summer
The kind that breaks and it stings like a something-or-other
About a girl, or a car, or subliminal mother
Smell that price, man, I'm dying, man, to buy what they're selling