Dr. David telephone please Dr. David telephone Dr. David here to dispatch. Dispatch. Go ahead. We have a 17 year old male. Unconcious. Possible O.D. Patient is not breathing at this time. We are presently putting on the mask.

Watch me make 'em bow One by one by, one You should see me in a crown I'm gonna run this nothing town Your silence is my favorite sound One by one by (one) One by one by Bite my tongue, bide my time Wearing a warning sign

Throwing it all away Don't throw it all away In a lonely place Where we're living in this town The sun is coming up and it's going down But it's all just the same at the end of the day Nobody says it's wrong So we don't ask why 'Cause it's all just the

Havin' hard times, there's no love to be found Havin' hard times in this crazy town Cold, cold eyes upon me they stare People all around me and they're all in fear They don't seem to want me but they won't admit I must be some kind of creature up here

Like it was burnin' way back With the same ol' flame that got away and never gave my heart back Aww, and that same ol' flame burns I'm still the same ol' boy in love Me and you and this town we been through it you could say that I guess some things never

I have ever known Better thank your lucky stars For this moment to come I'm so much closer than I've been waiting a long time I'm destined For anything, at all Downtown lights will be shining

And just like dust we settle in this town Brothers hooked on Mary Jane We get bored so we get married And it ain't slowin' down, this merry go 'round Mary Mary quite contrary If you ain't got two kids by 21, You're probably gonna die alone At least

It’s alright ‘Cause tonight We’re gonna paint the town green Just like home Let’s color the streets like our own Let’s make this place feel like our own We’re gonna paint the town green (Hoo)

I drive your truck Every back road in this town I find a field, I tear it up I roll every window down and I burn up Till all the pain’s a cloud of dust Yeah, sometimes I drive your truck Eighty-nine cents in the ash tray Half empty bottle of Gatorade

Whoa oh oh oh oh We get real low, we get real high It ain’t all good baby but it’s all right This is real life in the real world We ain’t talking to no models We got real girls Well I grew up in a real town Where the prom queen had a plastic crown