He shaved his head at the airport
In a bar at the end of the concourse.
He said you're kind of catching me at a transitional time.
I'm a bright light burning into a dark horse.

She said I'll strap on the saddle.
And I'm sorry but this city's a cesspool.
I've kissed and I've cackled with half of these jackals.
Still couldn't get any jet fuel.

Walked her out to the taxis. Took her out to some parties.
Found a man with a handful huddled over some car keys.
It doesn't have to be pure. It doesn't have to be perfect.
Just sort of has to be worth it.

A Residence Inn at the top of the exit.
You pay the admission and here's what you get.

The stench of death in the credits.
The montage set to the time of your life.
A shot in the dark in a bar that's too bright.
A window sucking up all the available light, right?

And a clock on the bed stand with a cord to connect it.
Liberty and Justice into Master of Puppets.
Rolling off of the mattress. Waking up on the carpet.
It shouldn't have to be perfect.

He said he can't read the paper. It's not worth the trouble.
Finds out about funerals from the blasts of the bugles.
Wherever he goes he always orders the usual.
He likes to see what they'll bring him.

In five hours on the carpet
He visits six different planets.
On a spaceship shaped like a Gibson Marauder
The pilot kinda looked like Kirk Hammett.

While he was floating in space that chick took his wallet.
Wasn't really a date. Wasn't sure what to call it.
That same stupid feeling but he likes his new haircut.

It doesn't have to be pure.
It doesn't have to be perfect.
Just sort of has to be worth it.