He shaved his head at the airport
In a bar at the end of the concourse
He said you're kind of catching me at a transitional time
I'm a bright light burning into a dark horse

She said I'll strap on the saddle
And I'm sorry but this city's a cesspool
I've kissed and I've cackled with half of these jackals
Still couldn't get any jet fuel

Walked her out to the taxis
Took her out to some parties
Found a man with a handful huddled over some car keys
It doesn't have to be pure
It doesn't have to be perfect
Just sort of has to be worth it

A Residence Inn at the top of the exit
You pay the admission and here's what you get

The stench of death in the credits
The montage set to the time of your life
A shot in the dark in a bar that's too bright
A window sucking up all the available light, right?

And a clock on the bed stand with a cord to connect it
Liberty and Justice into Master of Puppets
Rolling off of the mattress
Waking up on the carpet
It shouldn't have to be perfect

He said he can't read the paper
It's not worth the trouble
Finds out about funerals from the blasts of the bugles
Wherever he goes he always orders the usual
He likes to see what they'll bring him

In five hours on the carpet
He visits six different planets
On a spaceship shaped like a Gibson Marauder
The pilot kinda looked like Kirk Hammett

While he was floating in space that chick took his wallet
Wasn't really a date
Wasn't sure what to call it
That same stupid feeling but he likes his new haircut

It doesn't have to be pure
It doesn't have to be perfect
Just sort of has to be worth it Writer/s: Craig A Finn, Steve Selvidge
Publisher: BMG Rights Management, Songtrust Ave
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind