Washed

I’d rather be sober than smoke mids these days

If it don’t taste like Frosted Flakes, then I don’t need the jay

Running in the park, soaking up the sun

High on life, feet in the dirt, I feel like I’ve won

This that victory lap shit and we’ve been going strong

Hail Mary, Randy Moss ‘em on the fourth and long

Is that a triple entendre, or some type of pun?

All my friends think I’m washed, I feel like I’m the one

But maybe not though, in spring the forest plenty (trees)

Soul powered, crucial hours in the Civic (please)

Don’t cower, in the face of armored enemies (see)

Sunflower Society’s a part of me steez (hahahaha)

I rock like a thief in the night, less out of spite

More out of righteous indignation, pour libations

We the nation, stop the hating…