Fight On

Smokin' spider webs
in the back
of the trailer park
don't get you out
any quicker, son.

You got to shine
like the light
of a train comin'
down the track
at the end of the line.

Voices inside your head
tellin' you to be nothin'
but bad,
but don't listen to 'em, son
just hear your heart beat.

Orange and grey skyline
showin' promises
it can't keep.
So keep your eye on the prize
and talk that bullshit deep.