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Sample track: "Second Chance" by Peter Bjorn & John

Chorus:

Raise the roof, love the chase

let it burn with every taste

sippin' hard until it's easy

and you're feening for the bass

light's on cut em' off

we don't need them shits at all

we are blind to all their facts

but we are happy where we are like

we are happy where we are

Verse 1:

at the bar in my jeans and a shirt I copped from target

talkin to some pretty ladies said their blouses from the forest

i said great--- I don't make clothes, but I could probably make those

unravel simple stitches when I cut my fucking BEAT LOW

no tops, no ceilings, outside, old buildings

lookin' like an indie picture that they made for the kids

but this kid- ain't having it cuz' roofs have advantages

I really ain't a fan of all this rain in my drink

SO DUMP IT OUT

and grab a fresh jawn- then on to the next one

my cup runneth over I am feeling upper eschelon

mistakes have been made and my attitude is shitty

but that's not reason enough to have this party turn pity

so we ohhing til' the sunrise, loose ends untied

hands stay dumb high, sippin' on that mumbai

gin and tonics grease the wheels, lemon, lime the rhines are peeled

we're monsters in the city so let's run this town like Cloverfield

Verse 2:

robots can't drink but I know that I can

even on a double dose of zicam

ditch that riff raff,

antibodies, opiates and arms traded

like my veins were Taipan

this the part of the night where I black out

2 sheets to the wind need a snack now

no sheetz no wawa- only rofo in this town

stop playing- Jerry Stackhouse

i got my vices, they got their ices

and they booby trapped-- all the nice shit

so take a knee man-- and drink a smirnoff

it's not my cup of tea-- so I veer off

I'm on my way now, vision quest style

headphones and my battery has full power

fuck a cab cuz' the music drives me---

sober ride time cuz' my mind got high beamed

the gatorade soothes me, but I'm choosy

original colors cuz' the others never wooed me

no problem, I'm on that fruit punch

can't bully me, I never lose lunch

in other words I rarely vomit

the frequency is that of the Haley Comet

unless I'm on the mic than it's fairly common

ipecac to the stomach like I'm purging Ramen

Verse 3:

then the sun comes back, and my lungs are full of air again

recall the night's events, hope I wasn't acting arrogant

but I probably was I was sippin' on the seraphin

purchased by some bougeoise broads who thought I was a terrapin

goddamn I'm a turtle with a hard shell

stubborn as a used car dealer with his hard sell

but I ain't buying it, I can still retire this

put the bottle down, pick it up and get high again