New Country

We weren't going to stop there until the tagalong said "let's see what's in Daytona" so I pulled the car through in a cloud of black smoke and death until some crazy noise guy stopped us. He told us he wanted people to contribute to his blog, so we could run along in sweet anarchy, a pack of wolves tearing through Skrillex country so they could get to a better place.

Shit, we'll get somewhere. Whatever. Don't worry. We'll get out of here somehow.

Now if I could just shake these squeaking little mi5e that nip at my ankles and like to hit the kick drum I could put the pedal to the metal and we'd be out of here in no time.

We'll get out of here somehow, with subs so loud they might pop the tires and a head full of Tiger beer, we'll make it.