Indecision at high speeds can be fatal
In car, on horseback or bicycle
Is an old cowboy in a wheelchair still a cowboy
Just because he wears the cowboy hat?
Or a kid in a stroller with new boots on,
can he be considered a cowboy yet?
Maybe you shouldn't call him that until he ropes one
'cause the country folks flock to the cities now
The city people move to the suburbs
And the suburbs spill into the country
But a lotta kids these days deny their birth-right
White kids, ashamed of their parents trunk,
Attempt to abandon their moneyed-ways
They move to the ghettos and the communes
Searching for the guiltlessness of poverty
They wanna sit on the stoop when the night is hot
And not be stuck inside by the AC
They wanna treat their house like a fish tank
They wanna share water with the neighbors when the night is hot
But the struggle that pulls doors off their hinges in a good way
Also leaves a slow murder in the air
Me On Beer Video (MV)
Why? - Me On Beer Lyrics
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Indecision at high speeds can be fatal
In car, on horseback or bicycle
Is an old cowboy in a wheelchair still a cowboy
Just because he wears the cowboy hat?
Or a kid in a stroller with new boots on,
can he be considered a cowboy yet?
Maybe you shouldn't call him that until he ropes one
'cause the country folks flock to the cities now
The city people move to the suburbs
And the suburbs spill into the country
But a lotta kids these days deny their birth-right
White kids, ashamed of their parents trunk,
Attempt to abandon their moneyed-ways
They move to the ghettos and the communes
Searching for the guiltlessness of poverty
They wanna sit on the stoop when the night is hot
And not be stuck inside by the AC
They wanna treat their house like a fish tank
They wanna share water with the neighbors when the night is hot
But the struggle that pulls doors off their hinges in a good way
Also leaves a slow murder in the air
In car, on horseback or bicycle
Is an old cowboy in a wheelchair still a cowboy
Just because he wears the cowboy hat?
Or a kid in a stroller with new boots on,
can he be considered a cowboy yet?
Maybe you shouldn't call him that until he ropes one
'cause the country folks flock to the cities now
The city people move to the suburbs
And the suburbs spill into the country
But a lotta kids these days deny their birth-right
White kids, ashamed of their parents trunk,
Attempt to abandon their moneyed-ways
They move to the ghettos and the communes
Searching for the guiltlessness of poverty
They wanna sit on the stoop when the night is hot
And not be stuck inside by the AC
They wanna treat their house like a fish tank
They wanna share water with the neighbors when the night is hot
But the struggle that pulls doors off their hinges in a good way
Also leaves a slow murder in the air