Spastic fits of claustrophobic coughing
inspired by the feeling that there’s nothing
left to do, no room left to grow here
left alone, left just to rot here

Say Hey! What do you want to do?
Go West! It’s up to you.

Packed my bags, my hat, my bat, my ball glove
Took the 1&9 to see my true love
Misty morning Sunday’s always that way
Sun begins to shine as we pull away

Say Hey! What do you want to do?
Go West! It’s up to you.

In the hills and the bay I see my destiny
Manifest as moral superiority