Wake up in the morning,

Step into my old worn-out shoes.

Introducing myself to the rat race outside,

Still trying to get over the hangover blues.

Realizing that all the people

Who look at me with judging eyes,

Have more than I ever will to lose.

Find out firsthand from the big city lights,

That no matter where my bones fall to rest,

It can never compare to those small town nights.

Giving up the luminous glow of the moon and the stars,

For fifty thousand freaks and a million cars.

Every day always ends the same as the last,

Waking up in first place,

But constantly finishing up in last.