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Bottles falling in a dumpster
And a stale smell rising
Through a sickening summer haze
To the rhythm of a boot heeled hipster
Cowgirl's clunky sashay of shame
Mundane mayhem the last of the am's
Gasoline powered release
Of the rest of the day
To the afternoon's rising
Relentlessly stifling heat
Up around the corner a b model mazda's
Sitting crooked between the lines
Feeling lucky that 27's the hardest thing
She'll have to survive
Just don't mix your browns and your whites with your wine
And don't sit on your cigarettes
You'll feel like s**t soon enough
And deserves' got no say in a story's past
It's what alive feels like
Bored children caught between dog days when night turns them loose
All that's different for girls is the bragging and who it's done to
Everyone claims that the times are a changing as theirs pass them by
And everyone's right
Way down beneath all the talk and tequila
And reasons excuses and doubts
Breathing steam from his cup and stink from his fingers
He's starting to figure it out
The old mans world was more doing than thinking
And the doing was more cut and dry
Now girls collect trophies as much as the boys
And come home just as filthy and fried
Now girls collect trophies as much as the boys
And come home just as filthy and fried
