Triumph > when we walk that hill,
when we walk that hill,
to a red Vaux beer on a box car top.
Acclaim > for we're off the upper
in the three point rain,
waiting tables turned.
And the striding pain is just a sprain.
And the tracking's listing,
the steering's shot, but look
*check the sideways lingo* Listen.
We'll be high on tops of keys
we'll drift in green and lush and
split these pick beak bills, thus:
we'll steer ourselves shifty, feed
ourselves fifty, stay hungry and dig,
we'll Leatherette lick the postal
order toward a brighter one.
We'll save the cow today.
On the island of small victories,
sacred moments come.
Peak attitude is sheer collective
and the view up here,
shall earn ourselves