We pull up and we're fucked again These roads are full of sin And to find one so compassionate Unless they've been on what we call a Tourtasia It's what will make you into a drink hard to tank Different towns but it's the same old places Nothing is different it's just all the same Broken down again but it's nothing new I can't wait to sleep in my own bed By way of the van We drive our own compassion This is the end of the road Turn around again We missed another freeway exit Sleep creeps on us all Make thousands of u-turns Face it we need another stop Grasping for each other's throat Instead take it out on the road It was meant for this We make all the cash we can It's not as much as some That's right, we make the best of it just to have fun Even though we get screwed I wouldn't trade this for anything Fact is we love what we do Even sometimes we feel Treads from the stampede over head Tourtasia footprints embed our skulls This is our life How many more weeks to go?