Driving down the freeway 
As if I was on downers 
Followed off the exit ramp 
By a scene from close encounters 
Out of the van 
Walk a straight line 
Lost count of the beers 
Somewhere around nine 
Drunk and driving, boy 
You really fucked up 
Now you're in the squad car 
Hands in back, cuffed 
Seven hundred dollars 
Or eight months, son 
Checked my pockets, but 
I knew I had none 
They took away my license 
They said I can't drive 
Said that I should thank them 
I'm "lucky to be alive" 
Locked in a cell 
For weeks at a time 
My friends got me out 
My bail was my fine 
Now I'm on the outside 
Me and all my friends 
Drunk and driving reckless 
Just waiting to get caught again