Down at the Whiskey Living out our dreams Do you remember when? We were on the run Got loaded like a shotgun We never made a dime But god we had a good time We always made a scene Runaways in a van

In which we're given paradise but only for a day? Is it written in the stars, are we paying for some crime? Is that all that we are good for, just a stretch of mortal time? Is this God's experiment in which we had no say? I am here to tell you we can