I'd be a lone star, but not in this state,
Not wearing this fair, bizarre, confused stare.
They shade 'em from the light, Oh, can you dig it?
We bury tall boys under the hot sun.

They keep it out of reach, and unseen,
to where you'd sell your hands just to hold their machines,
Then you're lost in a scene on your own,
Just badges and bands that crawl on each other.

Some girls got us up, we all piled on the bus and headed for the party...
After....After party. After party....

I heard a trombone slid out a patch cord,
there was a loud buzz come from the main board
We loaded in late, got bumped up to play,
A mess all over this sloppy weekday.

Here is your big shot, right in your sights now,
He speaks of nothing but nets and touchdowns.

This is a vicious machine
A worn, old, tired routine
The nights un-nice
its sold and serpentine

The bars are all closed for the night,
So whatever we have is gonna have to suffice.
There was this stupid song and we all sang along,
Make it last because there's nothing
AAAAfter.... The After parTy After party.........................................................

After the show, will you be there?
I hope to see ya.
After we go, once more strangers,
by your sigh, "huuuuh." I know.
Its been so much time, Two today. We're one last night
When the bar was as open as we, and we'd go on about nothing
No, nothing.