Driving down the freeway

As if I was on downers

Followed off the exit ramp

By a scene from close encounters

Out of the van

Walk a straight line

Lost count of the beers

Somewhere around nine

Drunk and driving, boy

You really fucked up

Now you're in the squad car

Hands in back, cuffed

Seven hundred dollars

Or eight months, son

Checked my pockets, but

I knew I had none

They took away my license

They said I can't drive

Said that I should thank them

I'm lucky to be alive

Locked in a cell

For weeks at a time

My friends got me out

My bail was my fine

Now I'm on the outside

Me and all my friends

Drunk and driving reckless

Just waiting to get caught again