Find myself in Hideout City,
Somebody's driving this bucket of bolts.
The brakes are shot so we get in kinda early,
Smoking the map we were told to consult.

Past the restaurants and condos,
And the dilapidated mall,
Everyone in Hideout City
Gets their very own hole in the wall.

Looking for a cheap gas station
With 40 year old AstroTurf
Selling bootleg classic country,
This tape deck's gonna prove it's worth.

Between the inconclusive street signs
And the liquid traffic lights,
Everyone in Hideout City
Is gonna have to hang three rights.

And if you get lost,
Just look at your hand.
The lines on your palm
Tell you that was the plan.

Come upon someone with answers,
Rotating a telephone pole.
Got the world spinning on this axis,
Finally had to take control.

Cast into communal exile,
And almost there but not quite,
Everyone in Hideout City
Is gonna have to stay up all night.