This ain't one of them summers for slowing down. It starts with a full tank 
and nowhere to be. Buried to the doors in a swamp one minute. Then riding 
the bow chasing gators the next. Nobody has a plan. Nobody cares.

The days are hot, the nights are hotter. Dive bars packed wall to wall. Neon lights. 
Country music turned up too loud. Somebody always saying, one more.

One more lap. One more bad idea. Mud on the seats. 
Foot on the gas. Keep going. 
Till the wheels fall off.